The Broken Doll
by Tress Blues
Summary: Sophie Miller is like a porcelain doll: quiet, beautiful, secretive & breakable. But then there’s Paul who's trying to figure her out, dark secrets & all. But can Paul stop the force threatening Sophie? Or is the broken doll about to be put beyond repair?
1. Prologue

**The Broken Doll  
_By Tress Blues  
_**

_One Year after Eclipse:_

Sophie Miller is like a porcelain doll: quiet, beautiful, secretive & breakable. But there's Paul who's trying to figure her out, dark secrets & all. But can Paul stop the force threatening Sophie? Or is the broken doll about to be put beyond repair? PxOC

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**Prologue**

I didn't think it would come to this. Really, I didn't. I never, ever imagined myself here of all places. I thought I would always be protected by him and part of me thought he was just angry, any moment now he would stop and be fine again.

But it wasn't looking that way right now, and as I looked into the eyes of my would-be killer, I had to accept the facts for the last time. I loved him. I was loved. I was sorry. I didn't want to die after all. And it wasn't my fault. It never was.

It's kinda sad that I only realised this small but so significant a fact in the hour of my death. What happened was an accident. Horrible, life shattering but an accident. Maybe that's why I accepted it now. Because there was nothing left to do but accept.

Is that what happens at the end of your life? It doesn't matter about the cars you own or the money you collect or the things you buy. In the end, it isn't about what you have. It ends with what you've done. It ends with the truth.

So I looked into the eyes of my would-be killer and smiled, because I knew the truth. "I love you." I whispered and listened to the _crack!_ as I died.

**Welcome, ladies and gents...**


	2. Who Picks Up The Pieces?

**My first chapter…please review, I've been working on this for a year now when I should've been doing homework, chores and my other story, and I would love to know what you think. Hope you…well not enjoy but at least are intrigued by this!**

**Warning: There is abuse in this chapter. Chances are, the will be abuse in a majority of chapters. If you are particularly sensitive about domestic, child or any other kind of abuse, please take note of this warning and do not read any further. If you do read this and wish to make any kind of complaint please remember this warning and be sensitive to the fact that you were given pre-knowledge.**

**Tress Blues**

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Chapter 1. Who picks up the pieces?

_Sophie_

"Aw come on Sophie!" Erika, my gorgeous best friend, whined, pulling on my arm like a child. "You never come out anymore! Please? Just one party?" I smiled at her patiently and detached her fingers from my wrist.

"No, sorry, remember my dad's curfew that must be followed at all times." I repeated the line with a monotone. Erika pouted.

"For a whole two years?!" she asked, with disbelief and slight suspicion. I shrugged with a smile, although there was a cold dread blooming in the back of my throat. _Don't be suspicious of me Erika, _I willed to her in my head. I couldn't afford people being suspicious of me. There was an impatient beeping from the car and Erika turned around to wave her arms at Yasmine, her older sister who was peering out of the windshield. "I'm coming, I'm coming, bloody cow…" she muttered moodily and turned back to me with big brown eyes shiny with fake tears. "Please come Soph, please, please, please?" she whined.

I wished I could go with her. I wished and hoped and prayed to god that I could go back in time and be the young, happy Sophie that would've gone out with Erika without a second thought, no matter how much she hated loud music or dancing or random sweaty bodies pressing into her on the dance floor. But I couldn't go back. Because things were different now, whether I liked them or not. So I shook my head. "I'm sorry Erika. I really wish I could go-" I began and she snorted, annoyed.

"You hate my parties." She pointed out and I knew she was hurt that I was excusing myself instead of just telling her I didn't want to go. I smiled, sheepishly and sadly, not correcting her statement. Her face softened. "But you always came as my wing-girl." Erika said and threw her arms around me. I wished she'd picked another spot than my ribs: they were particularly tender at the moment.

I winced and patted her back before she drew away and bounded down the steps of my house where Yasmine was honking the horn again. Erika turned back halfway and waved at me. "Seeya tomorrow Snowy!" Snowy. The nickname that came from being the one of the few Caucasians on an Indian Reservation, made my heart flinch. I used to be Snowy to everyone: now I was only Snowy on the outside, broken and worthless on the inside.

I watched as her beaten up old car backed out of my driveway and drove down the street with a stream of exhale rising behind it. The sun made it turn sepia and I stood watching it, long after it disappeared from sight. I could've been in that car, turning on the radio, laughing with Erika, maybe even bickering with her about the book I was sure to have brought along. I loved books. I loved the distraction their creamy pages provided; the way they whispered stories to you and played with your imagination, taking you to places where nothing bad could ever happen…I shook my head. Don't think about it Sophie. Don't think about it at all. You're in reality. Deal with it.

I turned around, staring at my front door, the one that looked so uncommon around here. La Push's doors all looked the same, as did the house: red bricked, bordering the forest, cosy, maybe double storeyed. Mine was all of that but it definitely lacked something. People felt it when they came around; they felt the way it held stories, not all of them nice.

I opened the door noisily and passed the living room into the kitchen as a blur. Hopefully he hadn't noticed me, hadn't seen me even leave, or pass the room in which a football game was blaring on. The spaghetti on the stove was beginning to heat up so I turned it up a few notches and dug around for a colander to pour it in before reaching for the tomato paste can. The noise from the television cut off after a second and my fingers that were fumbling with the can opener on the tomato sauce froze.

"You aren't allowed to see people after school." Jackson Miller said, staggering into the kitchen and leaning against the refrigerator. His blonde hair was tousled and his chin was growing week old stubble; his hands were scarred from his work as a mechanic and his pupils, dark against his already dark brown eyes, were dilated. My father's voice had a slur in it too.

I cleared my throat and looked away from him, trying to open the tomato sauce. "I sent her away." I said, softly, frozen in place with fear. My ribs ached as I flipped my long blonde hair over my shoulder and turned the can opener with considerable effort. But I was looking under my arm at his face, wondering what type of mood he was in. Dad'd been docile when he came home, going straight to the television. Now, however, his face turned into a sneer and he took a drag from his beer bottle.

"You sent her away did you?" he asked, mockingly. "Can't imagine it would've been too difficult to change her mind eh? With a home wrecker like you…oh but you haven't told her have you?" he stumbled over to my side, glaring down at me with cruel taunting.

"No, I haven't." I whispered, not looking at his face. I hadn't told anyone. No one at all…Dad threw his beer bottle to the corner and I flinched from the sound.

"You didn't tell her because you're a coward and a home wrecker and a pathetic excuse for a human being!" he roared, flinging his arm out and knocking the can off the bench. The tomato sauce splattered on the ground like blood. I stepped back but he wouldn't let it go: he grabbed my arm, yanking it to the ground so my knees buckled onto the coldly tiled floor. "Didn't you?!"

"I sent her away!" I cried, the tears coming into my eyes. Don't cry Sophie, don't cry! It won't help! But the tears rolled down my cheeks anyway. Dad's hand was a drunken blur until I felt the pain across my face and then across the other cheek.

"You sent her away?! Don't be so weak, _she ran away_!"He yelled, grabbing my wrist harder until I cried out; then he dropped my hand and threw a punch that landed on the counter's edge. Dad stumbled away with surprise before grabbing another beer off the counter and spitting at my feet, dizzily. "Pathetic piece of shit." He spat and staggered away, sneering. I closed my eyes, drawing my wrist shakily into my chest. It ached in time with my racing heart and sore ribs.

I couldn't move for a while. Just like always, I sat, crouching in the corner with my teeth gritted together. It was worse when he'd been drinking, doubly bad if he'd had a bad day but this exchange was regular between us. My father hated me, hated my very existence. It hadn't always been like this though. I pressed my head back into the cupboards, closing my eyes as the flow of tears dried. He hadn't always hated me, or at least he hadn't hurt me because of it.

To begin with, my life has been spiralling out of control since I was nine years old and living in Virginia, right on the other side of the US from La Push and Forks Washington. We came here, hoping for a fresh start when I was eleven, for something that would help us heal. At least that's what my mother tried to sell to my father and me. But even she had never really been whole after it happened. We never truly healed. We just became more and more fractured like a piece of glass that has a crack in it, the crack getting larger and larger as the pressure grows until suddenly…it breaks. I hadn't broken yet, but I was close to it.

Anna Miller had left my father and me when I was twelve. There was no note. No message. No forwarding address. No divorce. She simply disappeared, her heart finally breaking. Which in turn broke my father. I didn't hate my dad. If anything, I felt sorry for him, guilty about him. I caused the destruction of my family, something that I have to deal with everyday. People told me it wasn't my fault. But it was. My mother found that out and she left because she couldn't stand to look me in the face anymore. And now my father had found it out and this was the consequences.

I still remembered her face. It haunted my dreams. It made me feel as if the world were imploding every time it appeared behind my eyelids, such terrible guilt and shame came over me. Her blue eyes dull and bruised with shadows, her face sallow and pale. Mom's expression was what really killed me. It was so lost, as if the world had changed the furniture and she didn't know where anything was.

I look a lot like her, save for the fact that I hide my pain better. If I could do one thing for my father it was to make sure people never knew about what happened inside my house. But we have the same long platinum hair, the same blue eyes…the same distinctly lost expression when no one was looking. I used to smile, I used to try and be happy. I used to believe in life and love and happiness. But that all changed two years ago when my father realised what kind of monster I am. He came home, screaming and angry and after that…I sort of just quietened down. I didn't go out with Rika anymore, I was only her friend because we saw each other at school and I knew her before. I studied like crazy. For the distraction, for the ticket to another world, another frame of mind.

My life mapped out would be: Sophie Miller broke her family at age nine, moved to La Push aged eleven, mother disappeared age twelve, began being beaten aged fifteen and now at age seventeen…lost. "Eventful," I whispered to myself, hearing the television bellow from the other room dimly.

The pasta whistling like a teapot on the stove was my only response.

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The night is darkest before dawn…guess who the sun is???

Tress Blues


	3. Romeo Was A Moron

**Hello lovelies!**

**I had fun with this chapter considering it features Paul and Sophie and Romeo and Juliet...really, what's not to love? Personally, I love Romeo + Juliet...I just like to debate fictional characters with _more _fictional characters....**

**Enjoy!**

**Tress Blues**

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Chapter 2. Romeo Was A Moron

_Sophie_

I awoke to the sounds of a car driving out onto the street, loudly screeching the tires. I opened my eyes and squinted out of my window: what kind of person is making that kind of noise that early? The car in question was an oddly new car, something you don't see much of around here and it squealed around in a three sixty turn before the driver gave a loud laugh and screeched down the road. I glared at it and rubbed my eyes before turning to my alarm clock.

8:30 am. School was at nine.

I groaned but only softly and sat up, my feet skimming over the freezing wooden boards of the attic. I shivered and stood, delving through my closet. Most of my clothes were old ones of my moms and my own; I didn't get an allowance to buy much else. Occasionally, I'd take my father's wallet and go out to buy food but other than that, I did little with money. It was a good thing I'd reached my full height when I was fifteen, sixteen or else there'd be a problem. I tiptoed out to the shower in the bathroom across from me and poured on the water, slowly so it would wake my father.

The water washed over my face and I tried to make sure my hair stayed relatively dry. My eyes were still blurry as I let the water soak into my muscles, washing the grime and dirt away. _Wash everything_, I thought. _Wash everything about me away. Let me just sink down the drain never to be seen again._ But of course, the drain pipe was much too small for me as I turned off the water and wrapped a towel around me, returning back to my room. My jeans were hung in my wardrobe and I slipped them on along with a dark navy sweater that wrapped snugly around my frame.

I tiptoed across the room (which was low roofed and about as large as the downstairs foyer, which it resided directly above) and down the hall into the bathroom. I brushed my teeth in a bit of a daze, never fully waking up in the mornings these days. It seemed like an empty promise somehow, like today would be worth the preparation. When I was done, I brushed my long and slightly curled platinum blonde hair into a low ponytail and walked quietly and quickly down the steps to grab my bag from the hallway closet.

Dad was sleeping on the couch, snoring loudly, his nose twitching now and then. I picked up a piece of bread from the pantry (anything else would wake him up with the smell or the noise) and made sure the coffee was out and ready to go for when he was woken up. The tomato sauce from last night was cleaned up, the dishes washed and put away; I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror in the living room and winced as I spotted the tiny scratch on my temple from my father's blows last night. I was an expert at covering my injuries. I could make a broken rib seem like I fell down the stairs, make a handprint fade within an hour. But when blood was involved I couldn't help much of it except to cover it physically.

I pulled a few pieces of hair down from my bun and it fell just in front of my cut, hiding it away. I had to smile ruefully. I was a master at lying. It did help that I was petite, blonde, blue-eyed and had possibly the least threatening combination of features possible but all things considering I did a very good job at hiding myself. My reflection smiled back but in a way that made me feel sorry for her. It was sadder than intended. Sadder than I ever thought I was capable of.

I shook myself off and tried to force a neutral expression onto my face. My reflection turned passive immediately and I turned away, grabbing a set of keys from my bag and hurrying out to the garage. There were two cars parked in the dank, overcrowded garage: one was a rugged looking black four wheel drive that my dad drove to Downings (the mechanic in Forks, of which is so expensive it's a wonder they get any customers at all) Mechanics and another that sat passively beside it. It was blue, worn but it looked inconspicuous…the kind of car that could belong to anyone, that didn't draw attention. This car and the other in fact, I was not allowed to drive. But the bus didn't come past my stop at the right time and walking in La Push was like preparing for a hike in the rain so I borrowed it a few times, just for school, so that I didn't have to walk. Which was strictly forbidden according to my father.

Quickly, I pulled the off-white, dirty sheet off the car and put it over a series of cleverly arranged boxes that to anyone with a clear mind might've looked like a very stupid attempt of a car form. But to the hung over, slightly dizzy mind, it simply looked like the car that had always sat there. It was sneaky but it worked, I thought, heaving the garage door open, quietly as not to wake dad. I threw my school satchel in the back and climbed, quietly in the front before turning the keys in ignition and backing out of the driveway that the thousands of other houses on the reservation had. I made sure the garage was only partially closed so that Dad didn't have to figure out the lock again before driving down the street.

It was a rusty old brand car but it was an easy, smooth drive for someone with bruises like myself. I followed the path to La Push Senior High School's car park and pulled into my usual spot, careful not to park anywhere near the rev-heads who would damage it.

I waited for a few minutes in my car, making sure I had everything and relaxing for another day of having to fake my way through life. I watched the other kids piling in. Everyone in La Push had the same thick black hair, dark eyes and russet skin. Being fair, blue eyed and blonde, I probably wouldn't have fit in here if I hadn't known everybody since elementary school.

But of course there were the few that stood a foot taller than the rest. The La Push 'gang' were probably the most feared and admired students in the entire school. They were all incredibly tall, handsome and strong. Not to mention they looked to be about twenty, twenty-five years old.

Jacob Black, Embry Call, Quil Ateara and Seth Clearwater. Briefly, I wondered where the other two, Jared Donaway and Paul Beckett, were before musing more on the social systems of La Push. They pretty much sat at the top of the food chain, along with Sam Uley, Collin Daniels, Brady Royce and Leah Clearwater. I kept my distance from them but I couldn't help but admire them from afar. Not for the same reasons my peers do, but because they were so carefree. They smiled happily because they really were happy. I could never be as happy as they were, as friendly or hopeful. I sighed. I really had to get rid of these thoughts, I mentally scolded. I'm starting to sound like a gooey self help book.

I hopped out of my car and pulled my bag behind me as I locked the car and melded with my classmates, walking like sheep into school. "Hey girl!" Erika squealed, tripping into step with me. I smiled at her and she pouted. "You missed a really great party last night." She whispered as we passed Madame Meyers, the French teacher. I glued my gaze to the floor until she passed before looking apologetically at Erika.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't go out you know, Dad's all about the study these days." I said, lamely but Erika shook her head in exasperation.

"Don't worry about it. That why you'll be the brainiest of our year and I'll end up failing English." She replied, gloomily as we walked into said class. Before I could reassure her that she would not fail English if I had anything to do with it, Mrs Oliver walked briskly in after us as the bell rang and Erika grimaced.

Personally, I had no problems with any of my teachers; I did well in my classes and they didn't call for parent-teacher meetings and they gave me good marks. I hadn't received anything less than an A since I was fourteen. But Erika had troubles with her literature and spelling and contextual skills and for that reason her and Mrs Oliver…_clashed_.

"Seats people, seats, we have a lot of ground to cover and only a month to cover it so," She slammed a thick series of files on her table and looked out over the classroom, her flyaway curls looking more hectic than usual. "Who can tell me who Shakespeare was? Jane Austen? Emily Bronte? T.S Elliot? Scott Fitzgerald? Come on, I want you all to think: who were these people?"

"Old people with funny sounding names?" Some wise guy cracked from the back and everyone laughed as Mrs Oliver rolled her eyes, annoyed. She wasn't strict just…different.

"Ha, ha, Mr Call you are a comedy genius and one day I'm sure you will make millions of dollars with your own..._special_ brand of hilarity." She dead panned, flatly before turning to the board with chalk. "No, they were writers! They painted the classics we hear about today, they built the roads of literature! Their pieces were ahead of their time, futuristic, idealistic! Shakespeare is the first of a list of writers we will be studying and the first and most famous of his works I want to bring attention to is Romeo and Juliet."

"Wasn't that the one where everyone kicks the bucket in the end?" came a voice again and people snickered. I didn't even look up; I was too busy taking notes.

"Mr Ateara, if you are done butchering the work of geniuses into crude, crass, moronic statements, perhaps you can stop drawing on my windows and listen?" Mrs Oliver snapped and I had to turn around. Quil Ateara was looking, not bashfully but repentantly (save for the mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes) at the teacher, his finger withdrawing from the frosted window. I looked outside and smiled to myself; I'd been right to take the car, it was beginning to look like a hurricane out there.

"Sorry Miss."

"Now, what I really want to look at is the dynamics and the context of Romeo and Juliet…" All too soon, the bell rang for the morning period break and Mrs Oliver dismissed us from the classroom. We all stood, groaning and Erika smiled as we exited for our lockers.

"Aw Snowy, I _love_ Romeo and Juliet!" she declared, spinning in a circle as we walked through the hustle and bustle of the corridors. When we reached our lockers, I snorted.

"Have you read the play Rika?" I asked, amused as I opened up the locker. She stopped, thoughtful before shrugging.

"I've seen the movie. Leonardo Di Caprio in a knight's armour was all I needed to know." She grinned, wickedly as I sighed.

"It's so terribly overdone though don't you think?" I asked, musing aloud. I was less than pleased with Mrs Oliver's choice: Romeo and Juliet in English class? Next there'd be a play or something and two of the students would fall irrevocably in love during rehearsals. It was like some cheesy chick flick that has a sappy happy ending. I had to admit, I was a little biased. I had some definite issues with the play and its themes. Love.

I didn't believe in love. Personally, I thought it just made you weaker, leaving yourself at the hands of someone else. How were you supposed to know if someone was just going to snap you in half and leave? I reckon, if love is so great and magical and wonderful, why did it make you feel like crap when it was over, huh?

"What do you mean? I think it's so romantic, imagine if it happened in real life!" she swooned, starry eyed. I rolled my eyes. Erika the sap.

"It was a play, written by a dead guy who pranced around a stage wearing tights and a dog collar all day. How is that romantic?" The last question was supposed to be rhetorical too. But Erika never misses an opportunity to prove me wrong.

"Soph! You have to look beyond the writer! Two people, meeting, falling in love but there's such a burden holding them back! Its just so…"

"Dreary." I finished, smirking. Erika scowled at me.

"Dreary?"

"Well yeah. Look at the facts Erika." I said, opening my locker. We were in the main corridor again, clinging to the metal doors to stop being shoved to the floor by the mad rush of students. "One: this Romeo guy is all hung up on Juliet right?" she nodded fiercely. "Well whatever happened to Rosalind? You know the one he was 'in love with' before he met her? How can a play be romantic and dreamy when the main lead is a complete player and jumps from one girl to another so fast?"

I didn't pause to let her answer "Two: They love each other after what, a party? He dances with her and jumps her amongst a whole crowd of people, oh how sweet! There's a name for that, it's lust. Not love. And what about the ending? Boy loves girl, Girl loves boy, they both die, cry, cry, cry, the end. That is how the story goes, right? I'm pretty sure that if they loved each other so much, they would've at least checked that they were both actually dead." I lectured; Erika was scowling even more fiercely now.

"Yeah, yeah, but you're only on about the negative bits! What about the positives?"

"Erika, there are no positives. That's my point! Everything ends badly because they fall in _love_." I spat the word out at the end. Love ruins everything. Erika rolled her eyes.

"Well…his heart was so overrun with his love for her that he didn't think when he heard about her death: he acted and then she followed him into death. That just means they were equally in love with each other and you don't kill yourself over lust. And he didn't think of Rosalind when Romeo met Juliet at all! He simply couldn't contain his adoration for her and in the end, he didn't even care about her background…Romeo loved her anyway!" She pointed out, sounding awfully passionate for someone who hadn't even read the play. I snorted and shut my locker in sync with Erika.

"Erika, the whole play starts off on the flimsy concept of love at first-" but I didn't get to finish my sentence because at that moment, someone bustled past in a hurry and something heavy shoved me, hard. I fell backwards, face up. As soon as I registered I was falling I closed my eyes and braced for impact.

But instead of being met with the white linoleum floor as I was expecting, I felt something, big, hard and hot wind around my waist and catch me inches before I hit the floor. My breath caught in my throat and I cautiously opened my eyes. Brown eyes filled my vision, swimming up to meet my own. For a second I couldn't see anything but those eyes. Big, brown and endless, they bore into mine with such an intense look; I shied away from it instinctively. But seeing as how the arms those big brown eyes were attached to, were kind of wrapped around my waist, I couldn't escape. And after a moment…I didn't really want to.

The eyes backed off a little and I saw something that I never, in a million years, would've thought I'd see. Paul Beckett's face was still intimately close to mine, with a look of surprise across it. I swallowed and broke away from his gaze, although my head was shrieking at me to take another look. There was just something…familiar about those eyes. Comforting. I looked, pointedly down at my waist and the whole world shook as he pulled me upright. There was an awkward silence for a moment, backgrounded by the bustle of every other student

"Are you okay?" he asked and at the time, I thought that they were the most beautiful words in the English language. Because he said them. Which was why I mentally gagged a second later, completely disgusted with myself. But Paul looked worried. Overly worried for someone I'd never spoken to.

I nodded and gave a weak smile. I was still in shock. "Umm…err…y-yeah. T-thanks. You know, for making sure my head didn't scramble itself on the floor." I said, appreciatively rubbing the back of my head. He laughed and grinned at me in relief. Relief? Weird. I saw Erika's jaw drop and close again as she looked at her watch. She looked annoyed before smiling and winking at me. He stuck out a hand.

"Paul Beckett. And you are?" As if, I didn't know. I was about to reach out to him but the bell rang and fourth period started.

"Leaving. Sorry. Err…Thanks again though." I said, walking away before Erika could completely desert me. Something about his face slumped a little. He frowned but I turned around before he could say anything. My mind conjured up his face, entirely on its own free will.

Something was wrong, I decided, about that face. It was…broken. My entire body screamed at me to turn around. To say something. Introduce myself. Anything. It was the strangest of urges but I tucked my hands in my jean pockets. For some strange, unknown reason, I wanted to turn around and look once more at Paul Beckett. Just for a second, my body pleaded with me. My heart did the cha-cha in my chest, so loud I thought everyone could hear it. I swallowed nervously, slightly annoyed. What was wrong with me? I'd never done this before!

I caught up with Erika just as she turned into class. She gave me an outraged look. "Sophie Miller, what are you doing here? I thought I left you with Mister Beckett?" she demanded. I gave her a withering look and sat down next to her. Her eyes lit up. "So, spill. What did he say afterwards?"

I shrugged, uncomfortable. "Nothing. I thanked him for not letting me go splat and then the bell rang. I don't think he even knows my name. I didn't get a chance to introduce myself." I muttered and Erika fumed next to me.

"SOPHIE!" she whisper-yelled. I winced. "He doesn't even know your NAME?!" I shrugged, sheepishly but she just smacked my shoulder in scolding.

The teacher came in a few seconds later but I could tell from the angry, frustrated looks from Erika that this wasn't over. By a long shot.

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**Read and review now that you know a little more about Sophie…**


	4. Cereal

**I'm tired.**

**Nowadays, I'm always tired.**

**It's a state of mind really.**

**Speaking of minds, I've decided to make this an equally distributed View story meaning Sophie and Paul will both have their turns…respectively, it'll probably be Sophie lots. But whenever I feel like I'm giving too much away…zap! Back to PAUL!**

**Ladies and Gentlemen: Voila!**

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Chapter 3. Cereal

_Paul_

I woke up on that rainy day of late winter (not that that changes much around here), with the smell of cheerio's in the air. I cracked an eye open to glare at Zoe. "Paul, Ma says you gotta wake up." She sing-songed, munching on her cereal. She reminded me of a cow at that point, munching on grass. I snored loudly for effect and rolled over on my side. I didn't want to go to school. I really didn't. I wanted to be lazy and sleep and patrol and be a dumb, really hot werewolf that never goes to school again. "Paul!" she whined, poking my side with something sticky and cold.

I snored again, hoping she'd get the picture.

"Paaaaaaaaaul! Wake up!" Zoe growled, stamping her foot and poking me in the shoulder with her spoon again. I turned over, grabbed the spoon and hid it under my pillow smirking. "Hey! Give that back loser!" she pounded her tiny fist into my shoulder blade but it barely hurt. That'd teach the tiny, annoying little pixie not to-

"Arrrrrgh!" I yelled jumping and standing up on my queen sized bed and shaking the milk out of my hair. I glared at Zoe. "What is your problem squirt?!"

"You weren't waking up!" she defended as I stepped off my bed, wiping the sticky syrupy milk on my pyjama pants. Why? Why did everyone else have cool older brothers or cute young siblings and I get cursed with the demonic sprite from hell?!

Zoe's face crinkled up in disgust as she registered that I wasn't wearing a shirt. "Ewww, you're so _flabby_ Paul!" she quipped, poking my stomach and I growled, picking her up by the back of her denim overalls and dropping her outside my door before slamming it shut on her and her stupid bowl.

I realised I was still holding the spoon and tossed it in the basin of my bathroom as I looked in the mirror. My own annoyed, slightly damp reflection glowered back with an expression that distinctly said: 'I am not getting paid enough for this'. Inconspicuously, I looked down at my stomach where Zoe had poked it and smirked at seeing the toned and tanned muscle there. _Flabby my ass_, I thought scratching and running cold water over my head, trying to get the milk out. My bathroom was a guy place, it was messy but I personally couldn't stand order much. Ma and Zoe called it a nuclear waste site.

I darted back into my room and picked out the nearest pair of shorts and a sweatshirt that didn't smell too bad off the floor before going down for breakfast. Ma smirked upon seeing me and flipped the frying pan. "I see you're finally up." She said as I passed her, kissing her cheek before reaching for the milk. Zoe sat at the table and played with a sadly abused doll.

"Only took a bowl of cereal to wake me up," I growled at her and she stuck her tongue out at me. Jesus, four year olds were annoying. Actually, she was barely four. She'd had her birthday a few months ago, around the same time as school started. She shouldn't even be talking this much! But of course, Zoe has to be one of those naturally gifted children: you know, the ones that bring home pamphlets from school about Special Advanced Curriculums and shit.

Ma sighed. "Don't fight the pair of you or I'll seriously reconsider letting you out over the weekend." I was skating on slightly thin ice where Ma was concerned: every since the incident at school with the broken water fountain (wasn't my fault…I gripped the sink to hard, making finger dents so it was either tell everyone I'm a werewolf or destroy all the evidence), Ma had been…touchy about when I left the house.

"Why am I getting the blame?" I protested and Ma gave me a withering look.

"Because you're the bad one." Zoe supplied helpfully. "I'm the good one, everyone says so."

"Everyone also says Santa's real but he's not." I whispered to her evilly as I poured a glass of milk. I was tempted to drink out of the carton but that wouldn't do much good in the eyes of my mom. Zoe's face went wide-eyed.

"Santa is so real!" she screeched and I tapped the glass of milk I had to my mouth as if to say 'Sorry, I can't hear you, la, la, la, la'. "He is _so_!"

"Zoe, shush, Paul stop razzing her up!" Ma ordered and slid a plate with a couple of king sized pancakes across the counter. I grinned at her, digging in at once.

Zoe frowned. "Why does Paul get big pancakes and I don't?" she whined.

"Because I don't speak in a voice so high only dogs can hear it?" I suggested, annoyed at the incessant whine. I smiled at my own joke. She glared at me and tried to nick one of my pancakes but werewolf reflexes really do rule. I swept the plate away and smirked, downing the last of the stack. Ma hadn't complained, per se, about my new appetite, she'd simply acknowledged it and chosen not to question it.

"Because you were too impatient to wait and had to go eat cereal." Ma told her, firmly and Zoe rolled her eyes, going back to her doll. I checked the time and smiled; 8:30 didn't leave much room for Jared to get to my place, pick me up and make it to school within the first bell so I might be scoring fifty bucks off him this morning. Sweet. "Paul, I want you to go to store sometime this week, I have a list on the fridge," she said, rushing around, turning off the stove and donning her coat.

My Ma was pretty beautiful; she had long dark brown hair and big dark eyes and was always getting asked out at the Diner where she worked in Forks. 'Course she had the common sense to say no to the losers, which was good because I might have had to bash their faces in otherwise.

"Mommy, who's taking me to day-care?!" Zoe shrieked as Ma kissed her forehead. She sighed, impatiently.

"I told you Zo, Emily's going to be taking you okay? She'll be round before Paul goes, I promise." She reassured her and turned to me with a stern face.

"You will not leave the house until Mrs Uley comes and picks Zoe up, you will not leave her alone, you will not terrorize her when I'm gone, understood?" she fired off at me and I saluted her with grin.

"Would I do something like that?" I asked, mock-shocked. She sent me a dark look before reaching up and kissing my cheek and taking off down the hall.

"Love you both!"

"I love you Mommy!" Zoe screeched back and as soon as the door closed, she went to the television to turn it on. I held her back by the loop of her overalls. "Paaaaaaaaaul! Let me go!"

"No, you aren't allowed to watch T.V before Emily comes." I said, pouring another glass of milk before realising Ma was gone and shrugging, downing the carton in one drag. Zoe wrinkled her nose.

"You aren't allowed to do that!" she squealed and I wanted to bang my head against the table, the sound pierced my ears so bad.

"So? You aren't tall and strong and old." I told her, using my excuse for everything nowadays. She snorted.

"Strong? You're as flabby as Santa." She snapped, looking up at me with a nonplussed look. Her hair was flyaway and long and her big blue eyes made me wince internally.

"Santa doesn't exist remember?" I pointed out and she stopped trying to get _away_ from me and started trying to punch me. "Cut it out Zoe."

"Santa does so exist! He's real! He is!" she screeched as I pushed her away with one hand. It was like one of those comic strips actually.

Finally, she gave up and glowered at me, sitting back up on her stool with her doll in her hand. "One day, I'm going to be just as tall and strong and old as you and then I'm going to beat the snot out of you." she sniffed, daintily. Maybe as old, though I laughed at the thought of my baby sister ever becoming as tall and strong as me. Werewolf perks would most definitely not go to Zoe. Hell might freeze over, birds would start flying upside down…Jared might start thinking about something other than Kim on patrols.

"Yeah Zo, right." I snorted just as my ears picked up the sounds of a car pulling up our driveway. I pushed the sleeves of my hooded sweatshirt up to my elbows and opened the door for Emily Uley, who bustled in looking frantic.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I got held up making the steaks for tonight and then Sam wasn't around to get the stuff on the top shelf and I had dig up the footstool to get it-" she gushed and I shrugged, moodily. Fighting with Zoe always made me a little annoyed because of the constant pitch of her voice.

"EMILY! You're here! Paul was being so mean! He was telling me all these nasty things about how Santa doesn't exist and I told him he does, because he's Santa and Santa has to exist-" Zoe babbled, attaching herself to Emily's leg. Emily ran the La Push child centre for working parents and as a favour to Ma, she picked Zoe up every morning without fail. Zoe however, was talking to her like she'd never see her again.

"Paul!" Emily hissed, looking outraged that I'd tried to kill off a young child's dream of Santa Claus. I shrugged again.

"What? She's gonna find out sooner or later that a big fat old man in red doesn't actually come and stare at her while she sleeps!" I smirked as Zoe's eyes went narrow again.

"Take that back!" She shrieked and I narrowly dodged her as Emily guided her and her back pack and her doll out the door.

"Seeya!" I shouted as the door slammed and I listened as Emily pulled out of the driveway and Jared pulled up. I grabbed my bag off the couch and locked the door before meeting him out the front. I smirked and checked the time on my phone. "Cutting it close Jared, afraid you might lose today?" I crooned, almost listening to the money ruffling from his wallet into mine.

We had a bet going to see if he could get us to school on time for an entire week, as Kim was away in Forks finishing up a few of her AP course exams at the high school up there. Of course this just put my best friend in a terrible mood but then again I've been in a bad mood for years now.

Jared snorted and I climbed into his pathetic excuse of an automobile. "Yeah right you loser." He shot back, pulling out of the driveway and zooming down the road. We were driving well over the speed limit when he sent the car spinning into the parking spot and cut the gas…right as the bell rang for first class. I held my hand out to Jared, smirking. "What? No, no, you can't win! I made it two seconds before!" he protested and I poked my finger at the time. 9:01 am. "Yeah, yeah you son of a- taking all my money- lousy little-" he rummaged up fifty bucks and I swiped it off him without a second thought before stepping out of the 'crap-mobile' as Jacob named it.

"Aw, you're just mad you made a bet you couldn't afford," I mocked, waving the fifty-dollar note in front of his face. Jared punched my shoulder and (unlike Zoe this morning) it hurt.

"Well at the rate you're going, looks like it'll be going towards a fund for new shoes seeing as you've shredded the other eight pairs." He countered and he barely dodged a blow to the head before taking off for Mathematics and I split off to go to Social Studies.

Unfortunately, I had none of the pack in this class, so I propped my head up with my hand and dully tried to think of California, where I was trying to get leave to go vacation for graduation. California with its sandy beaches and great accommodation…decent shopping…sweet cars…gorgeous girls…hey, I'm an eighteen year old guy, cut me some slack. Mr Murrays droned on for a while, dragging the chalk on the board so it hurt my ears.

I hated school. When I was older, I would never, never go to college, although Ma was still hung up on it. Of course, she didn't know I was a raging massive fur ball at night so I'd say I had a better idea of my life than she did at the moment. Zoe guessed something was up. She heard me coming back in and I think she thinks I'm doing drugs or shooting up or drinking or something.

"This week, we're going to be studying more on these legends for this term's project. Each of you will choose a topic of mythological culture and present a report on its origins and value in society today." The teacher said, stopping and looking eagerly around the room. Maybe he was expecting us to jump out of our seats with excitements. Or maybe he really needed to use the bathroom. I don't know. Whatever he wanted he didn't appear to find it because he skulked around the room handing out our assignment topics.

I scanned the sheet, looking for any clue as to what Mr Murrays had been talking about for the last hour.

**Assignment Topics may include the following:**

**Ghosts/ After Life**

**Vampires**

**Mythical Beasts**

**Witches/Wicca**

**Werewolves-**

As soon as I spotted the last heading, I laughed. I couldn't help it. Being defined as a legendary creature pretty much made my day. Mythological? Yeah, don't mind me, I'm just living proof this work is _baloney_. The caption underneath read:

"_**Werewolves**__, also known as __**lycanthropes**__ or __**wolf men**__, are __mythological__ humans with the ability to __shape shift__ into __wolves__ or wolf-like creatures, either purposely, being bitten by another werewolf or after being placed under a __curse_."

Riiiiight. I don't think I was bitten by a huge ass mutant wolf before I changed and I'm almost certain I ain't cursed. So where does that leave me?

"Mr Beckett!" I snapped my attention to the front and sighed as Mr Murrays rambled on a little about disrespect. Respect my ass, I thought, annoyed. Sam was an alpha and I _barely_ listened to him.

"Whatever." I muttered, annoyed and Mr Murrays rolled his eyes before moving on.

"Mr Beckett, please don't make me send you to the principal's office," he warned and I smirked.

"Please do, it's better than this crappy classroom at any rate." I said, pleasantly. Mr Murrays' face was going redder and redder.

"Mr Beckett-" he began, angrily.

"Mr Murrays." I mimicked him. Some of the class laughed. Some didn't. I really could be bothered either way.

"That's it! Mr Beckett you will serve detention after school for today and the rest of the week and if you do not discontinue your behaviour I will send you to the principal's office!" he threatened and the class waited in silence for my response. I smiled, wickedly.

"Bite me."

---

"What have you done now Paul?" Principal Heather Bronte asked me with a tired look. I winked at her.

"Apparently gone to heaven if you're here." I said, smiling. She threw me a dark look. Miss Bronte and I had an understanding. I got into trouble in class a lot and she told me not to do it again and try to be a good boy. Yeah. Freakin'. Right.

I was right though; her office was much nicer than the classroom. It was furnished and warm and had the cool swingy chairs in front of her desk. I sat down in one and did a full spin before Miss Bronte looked up at me. She sighed through all her paperwork. "Paul, is there any chance that today's punishment will change the very foundations of your attitude, rendering you a valuable, mature member of society?" she asked, flatly.

Okay, ouch! I was a _very_ valuable member of society, thank you very much! Inside, I wondered how many times I'd saved her life and lives just like it, by killing leeches that came to Forks. Dozens, hundreds? Well ever since the Cullens skipped town, leeches and bloodsuckers were coming from all over to claim the territory and had an unpleasant surprise to find at least ten werewolves ready to tear them to shreds. Maturity on the other hand? Not so much.

On the outside, I grinned. "Not a chance."

She groaned and scratched her dark hair so that a few strands came out of the bun; I wouldn't have said it to her face but she looked more like a mad woman like that. Course for a principal she was also pretty gorgeous but a mad woman nonetheless. Miss Bronte waved her hand. "You'll get detention, just go to class Paul."

I grinned again and stood, grabbing the scruffy black bag off the floor. "Thanks Heather." I called over my shoulder as the bell rang for the period break. I moaned to myself as I walked, knowing it'd take forever to get past the Juniors lockers to my next class. What can I say? They were slow.

This was going to be a long day, I thought, annoyed. I bustled down the corridor, weaving through the groups of people who were a hell of a lot shorter than me. It was another boring long day in the history of long boring days. And then it happened.

Being a werewolf has some perks. For instance, our hearing, sense of smell, vision and reflexes were heightened and I could rip the average human apart in a few seconds. Strength, speed, senses, everything got better with the change. So when I heard that tiny gasp and felt that stir of air, it took less than a second to turn around and grab whatever was falling.

And I imprinted.

* * *

**Dun, dun, dun…Gotta love Paul. **

**He's just pretty damn awesome…sigh. **

**I like Zoe too, it took me less than a second to come up with her: she literally just jumped into my head and poked me with her spoon. Lol. **

**And that was an interesting comment about her becoming as old…and strong…and big…as Paul…hmmm…that's another plotline though.**

**Tress Blues**


	5. Broken Wings

**I'm trying to update every seven days. Key word: Trying.**

**If I don't, you have full permission to throw a tantrum and kill me off from favourite story. I'm so proud of myself. This story has fourteen chapters already, all of which are about for pages save for one or two. I'm re-reading Pride and Prejudice right now…is it too overdone to do an All Human fic based around it?**

**T de la B**

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Chapter 4. The Angel Flew With Broken Wings

_Paul_

The world shattered. The sky shook. The ground moved. My entire soul split apart like glass.

Every piece of my life smashed to the ground, the pack, my Ma, my little sister, my schoolwork, my future, every detail skittering into dust. But it didn't matter because they came straight back together again as this beautiful creature.

She was so…perfect. I couldn't think of another way to describe her. She had long, silvery blonde hair that was tied up behind her as she fell and clear, fair white skin. Her lips were a perfect, light pink curve and I could see the pale lavender of her eyelids flicker. Her eyes were closed so I couldn't see the colour but right now, it didn't matter. In fact, nothing did. I didn't care if she had red eyes and was a bloodsucker; all that mattered was that she _existed_. Suddenly her eyes fluttered open, hesitantly, revealing the most beautiful shade of blue I'd ever seen. Of course, I thought wryly, blue eyes, blonde hair, white skin. The other way to describe this beautiful creature was an angel.

She stared, bewildered up at me, as if questioning my position. I moved back a little, giving her some room to breathe. Anything that made her uncomfortable was a terrible weight on my conscience. I stared though, until she broke away and looked down at my arms, which were holding her off the floor. I felt sick when I realised how close she could've come to hurting herself.

I pulled her up though, carefully righting her. She was incredibly light I noticed. Too light. But the relief I felt was impossible to ignore as she dusted off her jeans absently. "Are you okay?" I asked, barely containing the urge to run her out of the corridor, away from any more accidents she could've had. Anything that might've hurt her.

She looked dazed for a moment and I feared that I'd been too late. Was she hurt? But she nodded and smiled a little. It was beautiful. Weak and etched with sadness but it was beautiful nonetheless. "Umm…err…y-yeah. T-thanks. You know, for making sure my head didn't scramble itself on the floor." She said. Her voice had something in it though. Like she was suspicious of me. It was still like music.

"Paul Beckett. And you are?" I asked. I traded a dozen names and faces, of everyone I'd seen and met with in the school but her name eluded me. How could that be? How could I have overlooked her? But of course, it couldn't be that easy. The bell rang. Break was over.

"Leaving." She said. No. Please no. She started walking off to the World History corridor. "Sorry. Err…Thanks again though." She called. I watched as she left, for once, I felt for my pack brothers. The very thought of her alone, with no one to help should something happen was tearing me to shreds.

I turned around and shuffled off to Math. I got in late and the teacher, a bald man whose name was just too hard to pronounce, glared at me. I didn't even notice. All I could think of was that girl. The one that was still on the school grounds and I didn't know her name. I couldn't even feel the pack's stares. I tossed names over in my head. Hannah? Michelle? Lisa? Crystal? Belinda? None of them quite fit. I wanted to know **her** name.

She wasn't in my math class even though I prayed she'd come in late through the door every second. Disappointment curled in my stomach as I noticed every seat filled. Where was she?

I couldn't think of why I felt this way. I could only go with the feeling. Looking too much into it would mean that I'd accepted it happened. I didn't really know _how_ to do that yet. The bell rang again and I realised I hadn't spoken or listened once in class. The thought annoyed me.

Why was this happening to me? I couldn't feel properly mad though because that girl was still in my head. Everything seemed a lot more manageable when she was there. I needed to know her name though, I couldn't keep calling her…well, _her_.

Seth picked up on it first. After class was lunch, a class which a pack of, say, eight werewolves thoroughly enjoy because of the unlimited amount of food they serve in the cafeteria. But today was different because I barely even touched my food. I scarcely even recognised the guys were even there. I was too busy waiting for the angel to show up.

That was when he noticed that my tray was mysteriously empty. He frowned. "Hey Paul, you on a diet or something?" The pack laughed but I couldn't be angry with them: I was busy. Next thing I know there's a hand in front of my face. I looked around it though. Where was she? Was she hurt? My head ran through gruesome scenario after gruesome scenario. "Paul? Paul? PAUL?" the voice was incredibly loud next to my ear but it was like a mosquito. I shooed it off with my hand. The pack was obviously low on ideas because in the next second I had freezing cold ice water down my shirt.

Being a werewolf means having a freakishly high temperature so I don't actually feel the cold. It's just really annoying. I whipped around to my brothers who were cracking up laughing. "What is your problem?!" I yelled at them, punching Quil in the arm. He scowled.

"What did you do that for? I didn't do it!" He protested and I threw his empty water glass at his head. Quil caught it an inch from his forehead.

"Yeah right bonehead, now what is so important?" I muttered, darkly. Every second I wasted talking to the guys, she could walk in.

Embry sighed in frustration. "Paul, dude, you are seriously distracted today. What is wrong?" I only caught half of his question. The rest went in one ear and out the other as I turned around to look for her again. A name, I convinced myself. That's all I needed for now. And then maybe if that name didn't have a boyfriend and wanted to go out some time…

"Mm?" I grunted, not exactly listening but not ignoring him either. There was a very fine balance with Embry. Apparently, I'd just tipped it.

"DUDE!" he yelled, causing half the cafeteria to stare and look at us. Everyone went quiet, probably waiting for a punch up. I rolled my eyes. Kids at this school…

"Embry, sit down, shut up and eat." I ordered, shoving my lunch at him. He considered it for about…a second? It seemed a lot quicker. Everyone sighed at a lost punch up and went back to shuffling around like the sheep they were. Baaaaa.

Seth took one glance at me and smirked. "I know what's wrong."

Crap.

"No Seth, you don't." I growled out, glaring at him. He just grinned. Quil nudged him.

"What did he do that's got him looking around like that? Set fire to the toilets again?" he snickered.

"Or snap the flagpole in half?" Jacob asked.

"Or punch Seamus across the football field? Or was it Nick this time?" Jared wondered, furrowing his eyes.

I snorted. "Ha. Funny. No. Really, I'm rolling on the floor laughing guys. And if Seth would kindly step outside for a moment I'm pretty sure I can put an end to your suspicions and any chance of him having a normally shaped nose." I growled again and looked back towards the door.

Seth winced a little but grinned even bigger. "Paul has crossed over to the dark side." He said, using the nickname he had for the imprinted. Shit.

Everyone gaped at me. I glared at Seth. "Nice going genius. Can you stop staring at me like I grew a third arm?" I complained to the others who were still apparently speechless.

"Sorry Paul, it's just…wow." Quil mumbled.

"Err…yeah." Embry said, a little stunned. Collin and Brady appeared, sitting at the table, lazily flicking peas at each other. They stopped upon seeing the rest of the table gaping at me.

"What's up?"

"That could take a while to explain," I muttered, turning and scanning the cafeteria. I spotted a few girls with dyed blonde hair, a few with dark hair and white skin but no angels to be seen. I growled in frustration. "Brady!" I snapped and his head whipped up from a Sloppy Joe that was smeared all around his mouth. Now that, my friends, is disgusting.

"Wha-? He mumbled and I rolled my eyes.

"If you wanted to find someone in school's name, where would you look?" I asked, running out of ideas. He put the burger down and looked thoughtfully at me.

"Well…I'd go see if I could find them in any of the old newsletter and see if they printed the name." he said after a moment and I jumped up, grinning. He always was the smart one.

The La Push High School Library is basically a square room with the books on one end and the computers on the other. Not much to look at. Everyone stared as I came in, probably because not one of the guys had ever entered this place during free time before. "What are you looking at?" I snarled at one nerdy looking kid as he walked past and he flinched backwards.

_I'm not obsessed, _I reassured my brain, _I'm not. I'm just being thorough. I just want to know her name. It'll be easier when I know her name. And maybe if that name had an address and time off on the weekend…_

The librarian immediately shushed me and I rolled my eyes as I walked to the back and flipped through the old filing cabinets. I don't know what I'm doing, I thought, frustrated. This was meant to be easy right?!

I looked over the labels, flipping through them with growing impatience.

_American History Texts_

_Canteen Menu_

_Driving License Fill Out_

_Freshman Standardized Tests_

_Home Study Routines_

_Job Guide 08_

_Lifestyles_

_Newsletters 83-08-_

I yanked the file out and peered through it eagerly, sifting through the last four years' copies of our annual eight volume newsletter (twice a term). I flicked through them all but she wasn't in a single one of them. What's more there was no mention of any blonde haired, blue eyed, pale skinned, beautiful angels…but I might've been a tad biased.

I dismissed the pictures as they came up: Braces, braces, brunette, glasses, guy, guy, red hair, glasses, haircut… I nearly threw the book in frustration. She wasn't there.

I flipped through the rest of the pages, looking at clubs, charity auctions, carnivals, dances, anything that she might have gone to. Only one photo caught my eye, about a quarter of the way through a letter from a few years ago. It was definitely her; the same long blonde wavy hair and big bright blue eyes. The photo was black and white but the colours didn't matter. She was shockingly beautiful even in grey. I looked at the caption desperately but it was a paired photo. She had her arm around a dark haired girl and they were smiling at the camera, their own black cameras hanging around their necks.

_S .Miller and E .Heather taking shots for photography. Photography at La Push has become something of a sort after class, after our graduate Harry Antoine became an international photographer- _

S .Miller. That could be so many names.

Sarah, Sally, Sydney, Sonya, Stephanie, Sandra, Susan, Shelley, Sunny, Samantha. I did groan this time. I felt heat whisper down my spine as I flipped through page after page. There were more mentions; it was as if this girl only existed after she started her freshman year.

_S. Miller receives award for outstanding work-_

_S. Miller has the highest scores in-_

_S. Miller._

_S. Miller._

_S._ freakin' _Miller_!

I cursed the school, not for the first time today, for not printing her entire name. Wasn't she worth it in their eyes? Wasn't she worth more than a single letter?!

I didn't throw the file away; I just slammed the cabinet drawers so hard that it dented. When Jared first imprinted, he started thinking words like "other half" and "soul mate". Everyone thought he was just exaggerating but now I could see what he meant.

I couldn't be…content without this girl. Knowing her name would be the first step to knowing her and I couldn't even get that right. The bell rang for the after class period and I joined the crowd as everyone filed out of the library. Well, since I was 6"10' I couldn't exactly **join** the crowd but you get the picture.

Social Studies dragged on as a blur, I could feel the pack's concerned stares but it was lost on me. All I could think of was S. Miller and her big perfect blue eyes. I retract my former statement. Maybe I was obsessed.

* * *

**P.S. If my good friend Ruby is reading this after she all but dragged my pen-name from my unwilling, cold, dead grip…be kind Ruby Duby Doo. Be kind.**

**:)**


	6. Damages And Dents

**Erika makes me laugh so hard. I'm a character writer in this story- the characters tell me what they want to do and I just write it out. I based Rika off of a friend of mine that makes me laugh as well, so enjoy!**

**Tress Blues**

* * *

Chapter 5. Damages and Dents

**There are dents on all of us, some of them are just more visible than others…-Anon.**

_Sophie_

After lunch was biology and then there was mathematics (in which I actually sat next to one of the La Push gang members…we didn't actually talk but Erika raved about my luck for the next week or so) and then Social Studies and all too soon the day was over. Before Erika came to yell at me more about Beckett (she'd practically deafened me during lunch), I cut in as we packed up. "Do you still need some help with your Science Essay?"

And as much as she wanted to whale on me about my two seconds of 'glory', Erika nodded sulkily and we walked against the flow of students piling out onto the lawn in front of the school, to the library. Erika and I grabbed the nearest table but before I could even attempt to grab my science text books out, she jumped in to the silence with hushed whispers. She'd listened beforehand in Biology, making me recount every tiny detail of those five awkward minutes and then analysed them thoroughly. I've learnt over time that with Erika, sometimes one sentence answers are easier for her to deal with. For example:

"So he caught you?"

"Yes."

"How did you fall?"

"No idea."

"Did you know he was there?"

"What? No!"

"And he helped you up?"

"Yes, Erika."

"Was he concerned?"

"Weirdly enough, yes."

"What did you say?"

"Thankyou?"

"For what exactly?"

"For not letting my head go splat?"

"And then?"

"And then…What?"

Pause to slap hand to head. "Ugh! What did he say?"

"Ummm…he laughed?"

"SOPHIE!"

It was around here she started assaulting me with her Mathematics file. Which was around 300 pages of Calculus. Ow.

"What did I do?" I complained, wincing slightly when the file hit one of my bruises. Erika groaned and slammed her head onto the wooden bench top. I poked her shoulder, gingerly. "Erika?"

"I just do not understand how I can hang around with you so much and I can't even rub off enough boy tactics to leave you alone for a second!" she whined, her voice muffled by her arms and the bench. I rolled my eyes.

"Shh!" I heard a harsh whisper from the librarian and I hunched over my desk, avoiding her gaze before speaking to Erika.

"Erika, you over-think things too much. It was a one-time encounter. Relax." I reassured her, even though my entire body was freaking out at the thought of there being another encounter. _Stop it. _I scolded, _Do not even think about it Sophie. Not for one second-_

But try as I might, the blood rushed to my cheeks and I felt every cell in my body scream for those thoughts. I shook my head. What was happening to me? I was going insane. That must be it. There was no other logical explanation. I noticed Erika observing me from her desk next to mine. Her expression was amused and thoughtful. Never a good thing with Erika because usually that's the expression she gets when she's about to hook you up with someone. She'd tried numerous times with me on the nights, years ago when I was allowed out after school.

I smoothed my hair over my eye, just in case she could see the bruise that was now throbbing on the inside of my skull. "What?"

Erika tilted her head to one side. "You him." She sang, prodding my shoulder. I scowled at her.

"Erika, please be serious. I do not Paul Beckett okay?" I said, firmly. "Now do you want help with the valencies and isotopes of thirty six elements or not?" She grumbled slightly but opened her book and we studied for a good hour. I didn't concentrate as much while I tutored her; I'm ashamed to admit that I was thinking about why I couldn't Paul Beckett. It wasn't that Paul wasn't good looking or anything; I just didn't have time for dating. My dad was a full time job. Besides, I didn't really consider Paul to be anything but a fellow student. Really.

---

Erika gave me small, knowing smiles every now and then, but they only drove me further up the wall. "My little Sophie is growing up." She whispered as we walked out of the library, approximately an hour after school had ended. She sobbed dramatically and I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not anyone's little Sophie." I said, annoyed. Even though Erika was joking, I was getting irritated. I hated it when people babied me. I took care of myself and my middle aged father; I was probably more responsible than anyone in this school. And that included Erika.

She just looked confused at my tone. "You're your parents' little Sophie." Erika pointed out and I tensed, the memory of last night sinking in. I wasn't my parents' little anything. I was barely my dad's _daughter_ anymore. But I shook myself off and laughed at her.

"Sure, Rika. Whatever you say." I said, happily and she pouted, her bottom lip jutting out. I blame television for turning my best friend into a drama queen. Actually, scratch that, I blame genetics. This was the type of theatrical-ness that could only come from DNA.

She babbled about something unimportant as we walked, down the slope and into the car park, Erika getting in the brown beaten sedan she shared with Yasmine and Anita, her sisters and my forbidden car. There was a line of cars out of the school, which was strange until I realised that the La Push Wolves' football team had practise.

The car park was filled with sweet sixteen presents: slightly newer models of old cars, a few glimmers of a paintjob and the smell of new seating that hung in the air. Then there were the old rusty cars like mine that had not been re-serviced in say, 20 years? But I didn't care because my old car was my Dad's and his dad's and his dad's. It was a family heirloom and it was supposed to be passed down from father to son. Too bad the only Miller child left was a girl.

Erika grinned at me as we separated. "Tell me if your lover boy makes a move 'kay, Snowy?" she called and several heads turned to my eternal embarrassment. I stuck my tongue out at her.

"Whatever Erika! Seeya tomorrow." I shouted back, my stomach flipping from all the attention just those few words had brought me. As I walked into the car park, the looks had gone and I opened the car carefully, checking for any scratches before I got in. It would not do well for my dad to find his precious car scratched and figure out who'd been using it.

The keys slid into ignition and I back up out of the spot and drove down the small narrow road that La Push High school veered off. One of the windows was down and I could hear the noise as the footballers said goodbye for the day, heading home. There were rowdy cheers and frantic screeches, all of which drummed into background noise as I edged my way into the queue. Someone finally got onto the main road and the cars in front of me all jolted forwards at a decent speed. The road was cracked in some places but it was an easy drive, I didn't pay attention as much as I probably should have.

Big.

Mistake.

Suddenly, I saw a big brown shape jump in front of my car and I slammed my foot down on the brakes. The car whined and jolted to a stop and there was a huge, mechanical _crunch_. I stared at the steering wheel for a moment before looking up and feeling my face contort with surprise and annoyance.

Paul Beckett stood in front of my blue, rusted old car with an apologetic grin on his face, his hands fitted to the two dents on the hood of my car. He mouthed the word sorry and I felt anger bubble up in my throat.

I yanked the side door open, got out and slammed it shut. "_WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?!_" I yelled, furious. My dad was going _flip_ _out_. Paul frowned and looked at the car hood.

"Oh sorry about that." He said, taking his hands away from my car. My wonderful, trustworthy car he had just put two bloody huge dents in! Paul turned to me and smiled. Not. Even. Kidding. "I was just wondering what your name was. We didn't really get to talk much before." He looked nervous.

I stared at him incredulously. "You ran out, in front of a stream of traffic, dented my CAR to ask my name?" I repeated, letting the anger into my voice. He looked even more nervous as he nodded.

"Well, it sounds pretty stupid when you put it that way-" Paul began.

"It sounds stupid no matter what way you put it! What is your damage?!" I yelled, throwing my hands up. I spun around and climbed back in my car before he could say a word. I revved the engine and it sped out of the car park as fast as it could. I thought I heard someone yelling at him behind me and I looked in the rear view mirror to see Erika fuming at Paul who was shaking all over and yelling back. I felt pride swell in my chest for Erika, the firecracker that she was. It dropped to my stomach, uncomfortably when I saw the two, mammoth sized dents on the hood of my forbidden car.

I was in deep, deep, _deep_ trouble but for the first time, I wondered how on earth Paul had managed to dent my car. I mean he was ripped and everything but who had that type of strength? Really?

I pulled into the drive way of my house and carefully backed the car in so that my dad wouldn't see it straight away. But it was a joke. If my dad was sober, he'd come out to have a look at the damn thing until he fell asleep and then again until he had to go to work again, at the Dowlings Mechanic shop off the reservation in Forks.

I got through the door with my bag and carefully avoided the living room where he was watching the television. Of course, my dad saw me. "You, here, now!" he yelled, his eyes still glued to the TV. I took a deep breath and walked out to him. "I've been slaving away at work all day and I want something to eat so get to it!" he said, flippantly. I tried to cross the living room as quietly as possible but I moved in front of the television and my dad groaned before throwing a glass at my direction.

He'd downed a few beers already but not enough to obscure his aim too much because the glass shattered right behind me. I flinched, wondering if I could escape while he drank himself to sleep down here. "I was watching that you piece of trash!" he spat and I hurried a little faster to the kitchen.

I was halfway through making the chicken when I heard the garage door open and my breath caught in my throat. He'd see the dents for sure. There was no chance he wouldn't. At that moment, I cursed Paul Beckett to the deepest darkest pit of hell. My eyes slid to the stairs as I wondered if I could make a run for it. But suddenly there was a slam and the door flew shut again. "You _stupid, pain in the ass, whore_!" Dad screamed and I darted towards the stairs. On any other night, I could make it, he was usually so dizzy…

But Dad was almost dead sober and he pulled me back by my arm and bent my fingers backwards, yelling insults. My back arched with my arm and I yelled in pain. "What did you do!?" he roared and I cringed away from his fury. I should've known better than to use the car but I did it anyway.

"I'm sorry!" I whispered, my voice too soft to be heard over the roar of the television. The Lakers were winning, 90 to 8, I thought distant. There was a _crack!_ and I felt a sting across my face. I didn't cry; my eyes were squeezed shut as I waited out the fury. Dad slapped my face again and I flinched away from his grasp on my wrist instinctively. It hurt to move my fingers, the bases were raw and painful.

"You can't even take it can you!" he bellowed and tossed me into the stairs. I felt my knee bash painfully against the banister, the corner digging into my jean covered leg. I picked myself up instantaneously, as if on instinct and took the stairs two at a time, panting until I reached my room and shut the door as fast as I could. The tears came then, full and fast, rolling down my cheeks. My knee was grazed and my face was stinging but there was nothing terrible. It was just painful. On the inside more than the outside. I fell asleep, crying into my pillow, wondering how everything had gotten so bad.

**Aw man, I really hate writing these chapters. Don't worry folks, help will be coming...even if he has to ruin perfectly nice cars to do so...**

**Tress Blues**


	7. Nothing More Special

**I wrote this chapter a while ago and personally, it's one of the more 'Disney' worthy ones I have locked up so if it's a bit cheesy, understand that I **_**like**_** cheesy and I'm looking for my cheesiness in the world. It doesn't get enough credit these days.**

**Tress Blues**

**P.S. to my friends from school who're actually reading this, I am not paranoid. I am merely cautious.**

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Chapter 6. Nothing More Special

_Sophie_

I woke up the next morning, the sun spilling lazily over my face and my hair sent a silver shimmer onto the pillow. I smiled, wistfully and heaved myself off my pillow, realising that I had gone to sleep without putting my pyjamas on first. I went into the bathroom and peeled off my jeans and sweater before surveying the damage of last night. My cheeks were less flushed but still a bit tender. My stomach was mottled in a few bruises from where the staircase had hit me and my knee was grazed and going purple. Overall however, it was easy to cover. I found it difficult and severely painful to move my fingers so I managed with stiffly turning the knobs on the shower and slipping on a white blouse and a usual pair of blue jeans with a white knit cardigan. Clothes that made me blend.

I packed my things and stepped out of the house at a quarter past eight, to give me time to walk to school. The entire time I was feeling…numb. I think that's the word for it. I was empty but then again I was empty every time I did something wrong. But maybe it was because it reminded me of Mattie this time…

"Hey!" a voice yelled and I spun around to see a white mustang cruise down to a crawl beside me on the road. And Paul Beckett at the steering wheel.

I turned away and ignored him, carrying on with my walk. **He** put those dents in my car. **He** ruined it. **He **ruined everything!

"Sophie!" I turned to him again, shocked that he knew my name. Who could've told him? He seemed amused by my reaction and chuckled. "Yeah, you're friend, Erika was it? She told me your name. Look, I just wanted to apologize about yesterday, it was kinda…weird to jump out in front of your car and all that…." He trailed off, apparently done with the apology. I simply glared at the ground in front of me. "So where is the famous dented car now?" Was he _joking_?

I scowled at him. "My father confiscated it thanks to the dents you so thoughtfully made." I said sourly.

"Well, how about I give you a ride to school? Part of the apology?" he offered, brightly. I shook my head tightly.

"That wouldn't be the best idea." I replied, not having the restraint to offer a more reasonable excuse than 'because if I were anywhere near you for a particular length of time, there'd be a need for a coroner'. I looked up then and saw how he was looking at me.

Not creepily, not angrily. It was the same stare as yesterday, when he'd caught me. Paul was simply staring at me with a small look of surprise and…affection? I almost shook my head to get rid of the absurd notion. I was imagining things. But the staring was making me nervous, I picked at an imaginary thread at the hem of my shirt, waiting for him to stop but he just kept gazing at me with a lovesick look on his face. I didn't stare back at him, I tried to stop all eye contact because…well, I really wanted him to stop.

"Umm…if I say yes to the ride, will you quit looking at me like that?" I asked, desperately. I just needed it to end. I didn't like being looked at. If people looked too closely, you could see the sadness and the pain, even the bruises which were always kept covered.

Paul seemed to jump out of a trance and blushed. I think I went into shock. Did **I** do that? I thought in wonder. Did I just make Paul Beckett _blush?_ He nodded cheerfully though and pulled up to the curb. I opened the door and hopped in, keeping to the door as much as I could. In case of a need for a speedy exit. I have to say, I'd never been this close to Paul before. Any guy before. I could, for instance, had I the inclination, reach out and touch his cheek or run my fingers down his arm…Okay. No. Stop right there Sophie. You don't even like this guy _remember_?

But my thoughts did nothing to ease the staccato rhythm my heart was pounding at. He was wearing a Guns-n-Roses t-shirt today and jeans that looked as if they had definitely seen better days. We drove in silence for a while until something edged its way into my thoughts. "How did you do it?" I asked, without hesitation. Paul froze, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as if I'd asked a forbidden question. Interesting…

"Do what?" he asked, cautiously.

"Put two great huge dents in my car." I reminded him dryly. He chuckled nervously.

"Well it was an ancient car; I bet you could even put a mark on it." He teased and I smiled a little, even though I recognised his attempt to change the subject.

"That car was a 1985 Mercedes Benz thank you very much." I defended weakly; miffed that he was bagging on my car when he had…a _mustang_. Life wasn't fair but I wasn't going to admit he had a better car than me. At least mine had character. "Besides it's better than this piece of-"

"Hey, hey, hey! She can hear you!" he reprimanded and stroked the dashboard. I rolled my eyes.

"Well then I hope it knows that it's got a cruddy paint job and probably can't go faster than 60 miles an hour!" I said, cheekily. Part of me was surprised. I only ever joked in front of people I knew. Did I know Paul? No. Did it stop me from relaxing more and more around him? Definitely not. Paul scowled.

"Just because she's a little rough around the edges…" he muttered. I rolled my eyes again and laughed. He perked up immediately, smiling like it was Christmas and he was five years old. I frowned, confused.

"What?"

"You laughed." He said, smugly. I raised an eyebrow.

"So?"

"So, I made you laugh." He stated, still smug. I wondered briefly why that was so important but I shrugged it off, a tad nervously. It was an odd reaction to laughter to say the least.

"No. Your car made me laugh." I joked softly and Paul frowned.

"Well damn. I guess I'll just have to try harder next time." He sighed, mock-remorseful. I looked around at him.

"Next time?" I was surprised to say the least. What made him think there would be a next time?

He looked sort of offended. "'Course. Sophie, I got your car confiscated from you. Consider me your personal chauffeur." I started to shake my head but he cut me off. "Believe it or not, this is my weird way of saying sorry." He laughed. I liked Paul's laugh. It was loud and bass.

"Okay, I can accept that. But can I ask why you were staying back after school so late? I'm pretty sure you didn't spend it in the library." I said, knowing that he wasn't there for two reasons: one, guys like Paul Beckett, wouldn't touch the library with a ten foot pole and two…I would've noticed if he was there.

Paul chuckled, nervously. "I sorta had detention."

"Why?" I asked, enjoying the way he was squirming under my interrogation.

"I'm bored of talking about me. What about you?" He said, brightly, changing the subject yet again. It did distract me though.

"Me?" I repeated, dully. What about me? My parents? My home life? My school work? My one friend? "Nothing to tell. There's nothing special about me." I said, flatly. I point blank refused to look at him but something in his voice made me glance.

"There is nothing more special than you." He said, quietly. I barely heard it, it was so soft that at first I thought I hadn't heard it, that my mind had finally snapped but when I looked up he was staring at me again, sincerity burning in his eyes. I couldn't take my eyes away from his. But his words brought me to my other thoughts…

"Why?" I whispered. Paul looked confused as he turned his gaze- almost reluctantly- back to the road.

"Why what?"

"Why are you talking to me? Driving me to school? Jumping out in front of cars to find out my name? Why me?" I clarified, slightly flustered about the attention. I'd never had anyone pay such careful attention to me before and I hated it, hated that I was being looked at. Don't look at me Paul, I begged inside my head. Don't look at the marks. Don't look at all. Paul frowned.

"Why not you Sophie?" He said and I could see he was about to continue when he suddenly looked down at my fingers and (get this) _growled_…

I'm dead serious.

A loud, thick growl erupted from his chest as he looked at my hands, which were folded in my lap. "What is that?" he growled again and I looked down before flushing with embarrassment.

The bases of my fingers were ringed red and raw from the other night where my dad bent them backwards. I pulled down the sleeve of my jacket trying to hide it from Paul's furious gaze. We'd pulled into school by now and I could see that we had arrived maybe five minutes before the bell, with everyone crowded around the car park talking. A few people stared at me in surprise. It wasn't often that Paul Beckett showed up with anyone in his car besides his friends let alone a girl.

"Nothing." I mumbled, looking away, slightly checking my face for any more wounds I'd missed. I felt slight cut under my right eye and cursed myself. Then the whole car frame began to shake. It was like our own private earthquake and I looked to Paul in alarm, only to find that he was shaking too. That **he** was shaking the car. It was insanely strange, like his form was blurring, he was moving so fast. My heart started pumping like a machine gun because, although I wasn't used to talking with guys, I was pretty sure this wasn't a normal occurrence. His face was snarled in anger although his eyes were closed. "Paul?" I asked, in shock, putting a hand out to his shoulder.

I wasn't a doctor but it looked like he was going into an epileptic fit or something from the way he was shaking. But under my hand the shaking slowed and suddenly he was looking at me with burning eyes again. Which was when I realised my fingers were still on his shoulder and that for some reason he was burning up like he had a fever. A really, really hot fever. He was probably sick or something, I thought. The tiny voice in my head told me that with a temperature like that he should be dead. Or dying. I tried to pull my hand away in shock but he caught mine in his and inspected it gently.

Paul's hand was soothing, like a heat pack that moved around mine. I winced slightly when he moved my fingers but it wasn't as painful in his warm grasp. He looked up and scowled at the cut under my eye but he didn't shake again.

I couldn't breathe. My heart was going a mile a minute, so fast it felt like it wasn't beating at all, my cheeks were going tomato red but I couldn't think of anything except that he was touching me, as he moved his fingers from my hand onto my cheek, stroking the length of the cut. It was so stupid of me to like it but I did. Way, way too much. "Sophie," did I mention how nice my name sounded when Paul said it? "What happened?" his voice was strained and so…caring that I wanted to tell him. I wanted to blurt out my entire life story but some old habit saved me and I immediately went on the defensive.

"Nothing. I fell down yesterday after school and my fingers got jarred trying to break my fall. I'm just clumsy." I reassured him. He seemed a little doubtful but he just nodded and slowly took his fingers away from my face. Then he smiled weakly and became the regular Paul Beckett again.

"Clumsy huh? Well that would explain things…" he chuckled. I let my breath out slightly, relieved. I smiled a little and started to open the car door when Paul grabbed my wrist. It was a hard grab, but gentle, like a mother pulling their child away from the street...or the way someone would pull a loved one in for a kiss. He just smiled at me lightly, not as intense as before. "What time should I pick you up?" he asked, casually, but there was a strange, fascinated undercurrent to his words that made it anything but casual. I stumbled for a moment before answering.

"You don't have to…I have extra studying time after school." I fumbled for the right excuse although part of me wished I wouldn't. Part of me wished that I would just accept his lift from school. And that part needed to be gagged and shoved in a closet for the time being or I would do something really stupid, I thought angrily.

Paul shrugged. "Where?"

I frowned, my eyebrows pulling together. "Why do you care so much Paul? A few days ago we had never spoken to each other and now you're offering me rides to school? What's up?" I asked, suspiciously. Paul's shoulders sagged. "Not that I'm complaining about your offers but I just want to know what's going on." I hastened to reassure him. I surprised myself. Why did I do that?

Paul looked exasperated but amusingly so. "Can't you just accept it and move on?" he sighed. I crossed my arms and stubbornly waited for an answer but he just chuckled at my pose. "I just…I don't know. I wanted to try and be…friends. With you." he ran a hand threw his hair, frustratedly. "I mean…Where are you studying?" he asked again, trying to stop the ramble of words jumping from his lips…his soft, warm looking lips…

My god, I've turned into Erika.

I sighed this time, whether in frustration or weariness I didn't know. To be honest, I was still a little hung up on the image of Paul's lips. "Paul, it's better that we not be friends. I mean, it's complicated. Can you just leave it alone now?" I asked, slightly sad. There was a reason Erika was my only friend. I was too shy, too introverted to make any new friends and I was simply lucky that Erika had been there from…_before_. Besides, she was used to my personality.

Paul shrugged and grinned. "Probably not." I hadn't noticed before how handsome he was. Well, lie, I knew but I didn't really think about it. He was just…a Paul. Paul Beckett, the guy that girls wanted and boys envied. Handsome. Popular. Not exactly the type of person that I hung out or associated with. But I could see and certainly _appreciate_ why he was that person. Paul was…hot. Not cute, not slightly good looking, but smoking, light-your-heart-on-fire-with-one-look hot.

He was tall (as were all his friends…something in the water in La Push) and certainly well built. But there was something subtle in his face that made people look again. His jaw was hard and squared off but his skin was soft and smooth, rough brown in colour. He was more silent than some of his friends but I guessed that was due to his famous temper. I wondered why I had yet to see it but then I moved on to his eyes and well, let's just say his temper was the last of my worries.

Huh…

They were chocolate brown with lighter colour around the pupils and almost a freckly green sort of pattern amongst the lighter section. They were beautiful. Part of me wondered when did I start caring what Paul's eyes looked like but the bigger, less coherent part just said shut up and look. But I saw that whilst I ogled at them, they ogled back so I blushed and opened the car door again. People were beginning to file into school, apparently the bell was about to ring. I guess time flies when you're with incredibly handsome guys, I thought slightly dizzy.

I closed the door and looked at Paul across the roof, who was standing outside his door too. "Seriously though. What time do you get out of studying?" he asked, making a face at the word. I giggled and Paul smiled.

I shrugged. "Around about five." I mumbled, trying to control the raging blush creeping up my cheeks. Paul grinned.

"Five it is."

**

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**

**Aww. Cute huh?**

**I almost forgot to mention:**

**To all people, young and old, of all races and both genders, this is a direct order from the Powers That Be. GO SEE TRANSFORMERS: REVENGE OF THE FALLEN!!!! E-X-C-E-L-L-E-N-T!!! I saw it this weekend and immediately went home and downloaded New Divide by Linkin Park to my iPod. **

**I am obsessed and proud to be so.**

**Tress Blues**

**P.S.**

**I just noticed that I got a review from…MYSELF.**

**Let me clear up that this is not in fact me. I am not that sad. This is my officially DEAD sister Olivia for going on my account and messing around without my PERMISSION!!!!**

**Olivia- You Have To Sleep Some Time**


	8. Insanity Always Looks Good On Werewolves

**I'm a little hyper at the moment. I had stacks of fun writing banter between the wolves. I think I like it so much because it's not Sophie's dramatic, tragic life...I'll do something about that soon. ;-)**

**Have a good day!**

**Tress Blues**

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Chapter 7. Insanity Always Looks Good On Werewolves

_Paul_

All day, I was floating.

At least, that's how I felt.

I was picking her up. She hadn't objected to me spending time with her. Well, not in a really harsh sense of it. She just said it was better that we not be friends. What did that mean? She hadn't actually said she didn't want to be friends I guess…

"Paul, man, you're drooling." Jared's voice came amusedly through the fog of my thoughts and I quickly wiped my mouth. Tiny little beads of saliva were on my fingers. "Seriously, who is this girl? I want to see the woman whose single-handedly _fried_ my best friend's brain."

I'd been floating since yesterday, when I got home and realised everything was different. I came home from school (late after detention) and saw Zoe. I actually _hugged_ my little sister and she screamed blood murder. Well some things never change. Almost all the guys had found out by now and Sam gave me less hassle than usual about getting detention.

The world just looked brighter. Except for the fact that it was driving me nuts by not knowing where she was. I'd bounced around my house all night last night, trying to find something that distracts me. So far? Not much luck. Ma was better at guessing. She came home from work and immediately guessed that I'd met a girl because (and if the guys ever found this out, they would tear me to shreds with it) I looked 'all starry-eyed and unfocused, something that only the work of a beautiful girl could accomplish'.

Did I look unfocused? I hadn't been sent to the principal's office today, I wasn't taking notes in class but hey, when had I ever done that? All I could think about was her. Sophie, Sophie, Sophie. S. Miller. Sophie Miller. Sophie Beckett. Even better. Sam had said that the obsession bit of it only lasts for about a week and then I'd start being able to concentrate about other shit. Emily was teary and insisted that hugging me to death would be an excellent idea. I wondered if she'd even like Sophie and immediately snorted. Of course she'd like her. She's perfect.

"You probably won't meet her soon Jared." Embry sniggered. We were walking to the next class, now having PE with Embry and Jake and Quil. After their, uh, _growth spurt_, the coach had simply given up trying to get them to play fair in their own grade classes and shoved them in with me and Jared, who were a year older. Colin and Brady had been shoved up with Seth but they couldn't mix Freshman with Seniors. "From what I've heard, she chewed him out yesterday after he put two massive dents in her car." He clapped me on the back. "Subtle dude."

I swung at his head and he ducked so I barely caught his smug face on the chin. "Never said I was." I mumbled, getting into the PE change rooms. "Besides, she forgave me this morning." I added smugly, unable to resist. Jacob gave me a 'if you say so' look as he opened the locker. "She did! I'm picking her up after school." I insisted.

"Paul, girls don't forgive that easy. They hold grudges, it's their thing." Quil explained to me. I rolled my eyes as I tugged off my shirt.

"Coming from the guy with the girl who hasn't even learned how to say 'green' properly yet." I muttered and dodged the super fast punch he shot my stomach. "Besides Sophie-"

"Aw, she has a name?" Jared teased. I glared at him.

"You know, I would've expected a little more support from you at least, if not these three." I accused. Quil, Embry and Jake shot me annoyed looks but Jared laughed. He'd always been my favourite, the only one my age in this whole mythological trite.

"Sorry man. I'll be more supportive of the girl who probably hates your guts and your pathetic attempts to change her mind about you." He said, mock-repentantly. I rolled my eyes and slammed my locker door shut.

"Ha. Funny. I'm serious. She's forgiven me. I'm picking her up after school today." Which reminded me… "Jared, can you take my shift on patrol after school? I gotta stay back late." Jared eyed me speculatively as he closed his locker door shut too.

"Why? Detention again?"

"Well yeah actually," I'd forgotten I had detention all week with Mr Murrays. "But it's her. She's staying later."

Jacob's ears perked up. "A trouble maker huh? Well, she'll fit right in." I aimed a kick at his leg for even suggesting someone as perfect as Sophie would do anything wrong.

"No, she has to study." Unconsciously, I made a face. It was out of habit actually, mainly because I'd hated school since Elementary School when the teacher wore a wig and had a funny accent. They all looked at me for a moment before roaring with laughter. I crossed my arms and tried to swallow down the shakes. Twats. "Finished?"

"Sorry…but she…" Jake wheezed.

"Likes to…_study_ and you…" Quil added, breathless.

"STUDY!" Embry roared, doubling over. The shaking was getting harder to ignore, my temper was getting the better of me. But I couldn't phase at school…Sam would have my head. _Think of Sophie, think of Sophie_…it was a strange reaction I had to her touch. A cool, fleeting finger tip brush, soft as a feather and soothing…

"Paul?!"

"Mm?" I grunted. Jared looked a little apologetic. The terrible threesome looked like they were barely containing their laughter. Me? I was too busy thinking of _her_ to really give a shit about four werewolf losers such as these.

"Back to earth yet? Sorry, but Paul, be serious. There is no way you're gonna hook up with a girl who _studies_. _After_ school." Embry explained. Jared looked less agreeing on this and I knew it was because he'd already imprinted. Embry didn't understand yet.

"I don't even think there are any Sophie's at this school." Quil said, thoughtful as we wandered out to the gym. Coach Dobbs was busy in his office again so we all waited.

"You can't miss her." I said, almost reverently.

Suddenly Jacob snapped his fingers. "Are you talking about Sophie _Miller_? Quiet, blonde, one of the only Caucasians at the school?" I could've thought of many adjectives that would more accurately represent her but it was good enough for Jacob.

"Yeah…"

"Oh I know her. She's a genius." He stated. "Sits next to me in Math and Paul, you got no hope with a girl like that." His voice was apologetic.

"And why is that?"

"Cause she's a genius," he repeated. "Get's solid A's and I've never actually seen talk during class. Plus, she's probably _actually_ looking for a college acceptance. Not bumming out and living at the mechanics shop in town-" this time I actually did hit him. My fist cracked with the side of Jacob's head and he cussed. "Jesus Paul! Don't get pissed just because you're an idiot and the girl of your dreams isn't." he snapped, checking for blood. But the bruises were already fading which made me sigh. It would've been cool to show Sam or one of the Pack but injuries on us fade too quickly.

I scoffed, leaning back onto the bleachers. "Man, I cannot wait til you imprint."

Jacob's face went sour. "I can." Quil sighed, frustrated and bashed his head on the bleacher behind him.

"Jacob, she's gone. Get over it already!" he nearly shouted. Isabella Swan was a menace to Jacob Black's head. I swear to god every time I phase with him, it's a constant rerun of 'How is she?' or 'Is she happy?', 'Did I do the right thing?', 'What does he have that I don't?' or (my personal favourite) 'Is she one of _them_ yet?'

I still say it might've been better if she'd never come to Forks at all. Jake adamantly disagrees on many levels except the one where he acknowledges that if she never came, she'd never have met the blood sucker. That one, he's happy about. Nut.

Jake mumbled back but just as he turned to Quil, Coach Dobbs arrived in, with the rest of 12K PE. I couldn't help but bounce on my toes through basketball. Every time the ball hit the ground, it sounded like: _Sophie, Sophie, Sophie._

I was insane. But I'd be insane just for her.

---

I was bouncing up and down in my seat, eagerly checking the clock every two seconds. Five minutes til I got out. Hold out for five minutes Paul, just five…I glared down at the essays I was meant to be cataloguing into piles of surnames. Callahan, Jordan. C's. Tucker, Georgina. T's. Densee, Frederick. D's. July, Rhiannon. J's.

Jesus, in another life, I must've killed off someone really important to get this type of punishment. I had twenty six trays in front of me, ready to have papers in them and I had the tedious task of ordering them out by letter of surname which was meant to teach me respect for my teachers, according to Mr Murrays. All it was doing was making me pity secretaries and wish that Mr Murrays would go out and suddenly get mauled by a giant wolf.

Speaking of the podgy loser, he glared at me from his desk and I sent a few glowers at him when he wasn't looking. I couldn't afford more detention. Sam wouldn't be lenient next time I had to skip patrol for a week because I couldn't imprint twice. I caught myself sighing, slightly.

Sophie. She was in the La Push library, studying or something equally as horrid and if I could just get out of this stupid, unwarranted detention I could go join her…not that I'd actually study of course. Ma was less than pleased to hear about my detention; she'd lectured herself for about ten minutes before realising just how out of it I really was.

I glanced at the clock again. Four and half more minutes. I'd been here for an hour and three quarters, already, let me freakin' go! Hettersfeild, Nicholas. H's. Justinson, Emma. J's. Faroldson, Michael. F's. Androlin, Farah. A's. My head was beginning to hurt and it was all I could do to sit in my chair and not barrel out the window like a loony.

Although, at this rate it mightn't have been that bad of an idea. I looked at the window contemplatively. Nah, Ma would have to pay the bills to repair it and we couldn't afford it, not now. Suddenly, I gripped Indira, Holly's (I's) paper so hard I tore the edge and put it down hastily before Mr Murray's noticed. We couldn't afford it because my mom worked a full hour day at a diner when she should have been home or working somewhere people didn't ask her 'Is this coffee fat free?'

I snarled somewhat, chucking a few of the papers haphazardly. Zoe should grow up being able to have all the dolls and toys she wants because she has a father to help with the income and I-

_I should have had a father who was not the spawn of Satan_, I thought viciously. My palms and fingers clenched into fists and I fought down the shaking. It didn't work. My fists started to blur and I felt my temper getting the best of me. Usually I wouldn't even bother fighting it, I'd just ditch class and run out into the forest, screw the consequences. But now the consequences were that Sophie didn't get a ride home and that made my stomach flip in all kind of new and _fun_ ways.

Two and three quarter minutes to go…I stopped shaking and flipped through the pages, trying to pick out legible words from the scribbled mess of handwriting. I couldn't complain really, mine was ten times worse. Bologna, Sandra. B's. Meyer, Stephenie. M's. Zubair, Anthony. His fluttered into the Z pile, lonely and isolated. Miller, Sophie. M's- hel_lo_.

It was wrong. I knew that. I knew I was not meant to look at other people's tests but, I realised feeling a bit odd about it, it wasn't even my _grade_. 'Mr Murrays' Junior Social Studies Essays' lined each of the trays of paper and I rolled my eyes. What a neat freak. But I didn't put Sophie's down immediately. I checked the time again: Two minutes to go. And how much could I really see in two minutes? Her handwriting was neat and orderly; tiny words cramped together on the one line but legible. The essay was on white settlers in America and the colonization of the continent.

I only read about a paragraph and a half but what I did read, stunned me. She was a year younger than me (which explained why she wasn't in any of my classes) and her essay was like a college professor's. I groaned to myself. Oh Jesus, she _was_ a genius-

"Time is up Mr Beckett, you will be back here for tomorrow and the night after thankyou and if you disrupt my class again-" Mr Murrays began, trying to pull his beer belly out from behind the desk.

"You'll send me to the principal's office? 'Member how well that turned out last time teach'?" I asked, with a smirk before dropping Sophie's paper with the utmost care into the M's and walking out the door with my bag hooked over my shoulder.

I practically sprinted over to the library block, darting through the doors silently and looking around for Sophie. She was sitting by herself, glaring down at a text book. I checked the clock (wearing a watch wasn't really _practical_ in my line of work) and found that there was another fifteen minutes until she packed up, which puzzled me as I watched her slam the book shut and open up another.

I drifted over to where she was sitting; the rest of the library practically deserted by now but was required to stay open until five o'clock as it was the public library as well as the school library. She slammed the other book shut and laid her head on her hands on the table, groaning. "You know, the librarians don't really take well to people who try to smash their desks in with their heads." I said, casually and she jumped, her chair tilting backwards. I caught her elbows and steadied her; she felt too skinny to be healthy, her arms were rail thin.

Sophie's eyes were wide as if she'd expected me to skip out on my promise and I bristled slightly at that. I noticed I was still holding on to her elbow and dropped once she'd maintained her balance on the ground. She blushed and I couldn't help it: I stared as it washed over her cheeks in the most intriguing pattern I'd ever seen…

I was so whipped.

"Hey." She said, softly, pushing her hair back from her face.

"Hey, weren't expecting me?" I asked, unsure of what she wanted. She shook her head and opened up the text book again.

"Just trying to read." She muttered and there was a slight edge to her voice. I frowned; how had I upset her?

"And how's that working out for you?" I asked after a moment of absolute silence. She made a noise of frustration and threw the book down before looking up at me with narrow suspicious eyes.

"Not well. You're distracting me Paul Beckett." She said, fiercely. I felt my hear sink. She wanted me to leave.

"I'll just go then," I muttered, disappointedly before turning around. Sophie's cool hand on mine was enough to make me freeze and turn around again. This girl was…indescribable. She had me completely wrapped around her finger, I thought slightly nervous. What happened to Piss-Off Paul? What happened to the werewolf whose main emotion was grumpiness, anger, all around_ meanness_ huh? No, no, no, I thought delirious. I forgot, he _died_ when Sophie the Angel came and in his place is this whiny little-

"You're distracting me without being here Paul. I can't think about anything other than the fact that you are being completely infuriating." She explained, looking frustrated again. I couldn't help but grin. She thought about me. I distracted her. She probably didn't think of me as often as I thought of her but still…it made me feel a tad less stalkerish.

"Cool." I said, goofily and Sophie sent me a withering glare.

"Not cool. It's not a good idea for you to be my friend, I told you that already Paul." She mumbled looking annoyed at herself.

"Why not?" I asked, defiant. She was so convinced we couldn't be friends but she looked upset by it. I couldn't help it: curiosity may have killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back. I felt a slight annoyance creep in though, although everything else was filtered out by the fact that I _could_ turn away from her but it felt like turning away from the sun: cold and empty.

"Because…forget it. We can go now," Sophie grumbled, packing her things away. She was sad and angry and I wanted so desperately to know why. I bounced in my sneakers as she packed up. We walked out of the library together and down to the car park where my white mustang was waiting. It wasn't actually mine. It was the lousy excuse of a father I have but he hadn't taken it when he left so- losers weepers I guess.

She climbed in the other side and we drove in silence for a while. It was killing me slowly, even slower than ticking clock in the detention room. "Crap," she muttered closing her eyes. I stopped, worried.

"What? What's wrong? Are you alright?" I asked, frantic but when she opened her eyes, Sophie looked amused.

"Nothing, I just…I forgot my jacket at school and I don't know if the cleaners will pick it up or not." She explained, looking flustered by my abrupt stop. I looked in the back of my car and grabbed the leather jacket I kept, just in case I ever got cold. It hadn't been used in ages. I passed it to her and of course she protested. _We need to have a talk about that_, I thought a touch amused. "No, really Paul it's okay, I'll go back tomorrow and get it, it's not that cold." On cue, rain splattered down on the windshield in big fat drops.

"Take it Sophie, you'll be cold tomorrow while you wait if you don't." the words came softer than usual as for the first time I registered what she was wearing. The frail white, short-sleeved blouse had only a thin layer of lace around her neck and I guessed it was meant for summer rather than winter. At least she had blue jeans on, I thought a tad dizzy. Of course it only lightened the paleness of her face and made her eyes look brighter…her lips too actually…_Cut it out Paul. _It was the first time I'd noticed a girl's clothes and _not_ wondered immediately what was under them (again eighteen year old hot guy…give me a break)

"Tomorrow?" she asked, as she took the jacket, dizzily. I grinned.

"Chauffeur, remember?" I told her and she blushed.

"You don't have to…" but her voice was reluctant. That alone made heart soar.

"But I want to." I insisted.

"I can't be your friend." It sounded less sure, as if she were now bitterly disappointed about that fact. That made my heart soar higher; she could crack.

"You don't have to be. I'll just be your friend. How's that?" without waiting for an answer I drove further along, watching out of the corner of my eye as she stared at me, shocked before slipping the jacket on.

"My mom had a jacket like this." She murmured touching the leather. I smiled slightly, knowing that when she gave it back, it'd smell exactly like her. But something else caught my attention.

"Had?" I asked, tentatively and her face went guarded like this morning when I asked her about those blasted bruises on her hands. I hadn't phased then because it would've scared her and thinking of her perfect face scarred like Emily's made my skin crawl. But the anger I had from her pain was bottled up inside me. I pitied whoever had to go on patrol with me tonight. I hated her guarded face. Her eyes didn't dance with emotions then, they went frozen and cold and it was more difficult to pick apart her emotions.

"Yeah. She's- she's gone now. Just me and Dad." Sophie muttered, looking out the window. My fingers tightened on the steering wheel. I knew her mother hadn't died, I knew she hadn't passed away. That was the same excuse I gave at times about my good-for-nothing father and I had some experience with runaway parents.

There was more silence after that as I drove down the street I'd picked her up from slower than I'd ever gone before, wanting to prolong time. "Where's your house?" Truthfully, every house on this street looked identical.

She pointed to the nearest one and I inched forwards. The front yard was littered with dog toys and fetch things. "Do you have a dog?" I asked, thinking about how ironic it would be if she did. Sophie looked at me confused before shaking her head and I recognised she was lying about her house. "What's with all the chew toys then?" I asked, smirking and she blushed again.

"Umm…this isn't my house, it's further up the street but my dad doesn't like visitors coming up to the door." She mumbled, getting ready to hop out when I reached over and closed her door. I noticed she stopped breathing when I did and the air smelt like vanilla and those purple flowers I forgot the name of. But I shook my head and drove forwards. If there was anything I'd picked over the last few years of dating it was that you didn't make your date walk down the street to her house when you have a _car_. "Paul!" she protested as I inched forwards again, taking the houses one at a time.

"Yours?" I asked, cheerful.

"No." She said, coldly and annoyed.

"Yours?"

"_No._"

"Yours?"

"…No." I pulled up to the third one and smiled pleasantly at her. She scowled at me. "Did you have to? My dad hates having visitors come to the door!" she hissed. I shrugged and noticed that the houses were becoming more and more individual when I looked.

"You know you don't live that far from me…" I muttered, noticing that my house was only one street down from hers.

"And the sky is blue; I fail to see how it's important." She muttered back, probably not intending for me to hear. I let out a bark of laughter as she grabbed her bag and went to take the jacket off. I held her hand before she could; electricity tingled down my nerve endings.

"What did I just say about the jacket?"

She sighed, frustrated. "Paul, I don't want to explain to my dad why-"

"Don't tell him. From what I can hear, he's already half asleep." I told her, listening as soft snores and the television blared from the bottom storey. I frowned when I heard there was action upstairs. "Where is your room?" I asked, listening harder. Sophie gaped at me.

"You couldn't possibly hear that." She whispered, studying my face for lies. I shrugged, putting on a neutral mask. She gave up after a moment, pointing to the window facing the street on the top storey. "That one." I listened just in case but the action was down from her and the flush of water made me think bathroom.

"Is someone else meant to be in your house?" I asked, cautious. She'd just said it was only her and her father and yet I could hear footprints and the snoring. Two people.

She began to shake her head but caught herself and nodded, slowly. "It's probably just one of his friends." She said, smoothly. "Nothing to worry about." Sophie made to get out of the car.

"So, I'll meet you out here tomorrow?" I asked, excitedly. She smiled at me for the first time this evening and it dazzled me.

"You know what, fine. I'll see you out here tomorrow Paul." She sighed, turning and walking silently to the front door. I watched her until the door shut and I gazed, absently at the clock.

"SHIT!" I sped the car up and took off down the street to my own house.

**

* * *

**

**Oooooh...Paulie's in trooooubleeeeee....**

**Tress Blues**


	9. When The Wolves Howl

**I know it's not Sunday. I know it hasn't been the seventh day yet. I know that I'm technically cheating.**

**Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on how you look at it), I do not care.**

**Therefore, I give to you: chapter eight!!!**

**Enjoy**

**Tress Blues.**

* * *

Chapter 8. When the Wolves howl…You know You're In Trouble

_Paul_

I got in the door and raced past Ma and Zoe (the latter of whom was jumping up and down to the Wiggles on television and making thoroughly too much freakin' noise), spitting out greetings and goodbye to them both before dumping my bag, tearing off my shirt and grabbing a pair of shorts to go on patrol.

_Because I was seriously freaking late._

I took out into the forest behind our place and my spine arched and bones cracked and my hair spread all over my body. In about five seconds, I was a wolf and there were about four other voices yelling in my head. Now if that doesn't make me sound insane, I don't imagine what would.

_Where the hell have you been?! _Jacob snapped. He was pissed at having to cover for me and then do his patrol too.

_Relax Jake, I'm coming, you can stop you bitch fit already. _I thought and Embry sniggered before Jacob cracked his jaws at him.

_Shut up Paul, I'm tired and pissed and there is NO ONE to take it out on except you. _He threatened before loping up to the north area. _Sam wants you covering the south and Embry's taking the east. Don't know about Seth, he's meant to be here soon. _

_Jake take a rest, I'll take your shift and call in Jared to help. Is that all right your highness? _I asked, mockingly. He grumbled something, incomprehensible even in his own head before his mind jumped out of the circuit and I couldn't read him anymore. My temper was flaring up again as a wolf though; thoughts of Sophie only lead to her bruises and scratches, and my suspicions that she wasn't as clumsy as she looked.

_Whoa, what happened? _Embry asked as I took off to call for Jared. He'd be at Kim's and as much as I hated yanking him away from her, I felt worse for Jacob who was trying to hide something. I growled as he saw her narrow fingers and the scratch on her cheek. _Paul, they aren't exactly extensive injuries, she's probably just clumsy, like she said._

_Yeah well she doesn't look clumsy and I've never seen her trip-_

_Except for the day you actually met her. _He pointed out, running through yesterday. He hadn't been on patrol so he hadn't gotten the full scoop in my own head yesterday. _Heavy stuff man. _He whistled in his head at the imprint instinct.

I howled for Jared and watched as he appeared at Kim's window, looking irate before flipping me off and coming downstairs. He changed, disappearing into a big mass of brown and white fur. Jared reminds the Pack of a cow; you know, the black and white one, in colouring except he's brown and not black. _Gee, thanks for the amazing compliment _he thought, dryly. _Now tell me why you're howling to the moon to get me out here. you almost woke Kim!_

_Sorry man, I know you were with Kim and shit but Jake- _I winced.

_Needs a break otherwise he's like going to go like, completely bitchy. _Seth said, sniggering and sounding like an airheaded blonde. _Because you've had your share of them eh Paul? _

I growled at him and took off down south and Jared followed a track to the north. _Shut it kid. _I snapped.

Just cause I got dates and he was too busy waiting for his imprint to show up- wait, I couldn't use that anymore, seeing as I was imprinted. Well, crap there goes my best excuse.

Seth snickered in response to my thoughts. It was odd hearing voices and seeing no bodies around to match them too, I noticed, running through the underbrush to the south side of the treaty boundaries.

_Yeah, but you should be used to it by now, I mean we all know you here those little voices in your head telling you do burn things or punch people or be a complete pri-_

_Embry if you do not shut the hell up, I don't care about the leeches, I'll come over there and _make_ you, got it? _

_Whatever._ He grumbled, following the boundary in the east. It was instinctual, knowing where it was, like you couldn't get wrong if you tried.

_Nah, it's okay man, Kim was tired cause of her exams, she's sleeping anyway. _Jared explained and I felt queasy as he thought of Kim in her bed at her house. _So…how was studying?_

Embry and Seth laughed openly and I rolled my eyes. _Fine, Mr Murrays made me sort papers out. Guy's really losing his touch with the whole detention task things. _Unconsciously, I thought of Sophie's paper, re-reading the words to myself in my head…

_Sweet Jesus, she _is_ smart. _Embry said, apologetically. _Sorry mate, looks like you're out of luck._

_Wow. And she's a junior? You're screwed. _Seth interrupted my string of profanities at Embry. Seth was a sophomore, a year younger than Sophie, two younger than me and Jared.

_Will everyone shut up about my love life? _I groaned, thinking of the absolute flogging I would get if all three of the Alphabets were here.

_Hey!_ Embry snapped. He, Quil and Jacob were the Alphabets or otherwise known as the three annoying bastards who can't keep their mouth shut. **A**teara, **B**lack and **C**all made it too easy to nickname.

_True man _Jared backed me up, sniffing around one area. _Nothing here. It's all clean._

_Same._

_Ditto. _

_Nothing. _I agreed and we patrolled in relative silence for the rest of the time in purgatory. Idly, as the shift drew to close, I wondered if Sophie was asleep already. She probably wouldn't notice if I took a little detour from home to her place would she?

_Paul, you're sounding kinda creepy. _Jared started when I reminded him of the constant whining 'She's so beautiful, I'm going to go see her tonight, she's so gorgeous, I love her, I need to see her or I might DIE!' fest he'd participated in when he first imprinted on Kim.

He shut up without a second thought.

_Invite her to the bonfire on next month Paul, _Seth suggested although there was an ulterior motive. _I wanna see the girl who turned you into a quivering puddle of hormones. _I could hear his barking laughter all the way across the forest as Sam, Leah and Quil popped into existence.

_You guys can go now, just make sure you're free for tomorrow night. _Sam said and Jared went racing back to Kim's as if he'd been an elastic band being stretched from her house to far off into the forest. I was a little ashamed to say I didn't race as fast back to Sophie's because for one thing, I didn't know how she'd react to perhaps seeing an enormous wolf in her front yard and secondly…I was starting to wonder how she might take it if I told her it was me.

I was still musing on this when I tumbled out into the woods across from her house. Sophie's home was facing the La Push forest, separated from the wild undergrowth by a narrow strip of road and then a small lawn before the houses were lined up in a long line; like soldiers battling against the trees.

The moon was full (ironic huh?) and being the huge grey and white coloured wolf I was, it'd be difficult to miss me once I was in view. I tried to look up into the window she said was hers but all I could here was the noise of a television and dull yelling. The smell of beer was in the air too.

I took a deep breath…and stepped forward across the road.

---

_Sophie_

I sat in my room, scribbling down answers to my History homework. _In what year did the English begin to colonize Australia and what were the repercussions of this action? _I flipped through my text book (the old, ratty second hand one I borrowed from school) and jotted down notes, ready for writing up my report.

"GO YOU MOTHER FUCKERS! GO!" Dad bellowed from downstairs and I winced at the language. The smell of beer and smoke drifted upstairs and was enough to make me want to retch.

"HURRY THE HELL UP!" came another voice and I frowned, worried at it. Paul had been right when he dropped me off; there was another person here. Of course, I'd been lying when I said it was my dad's friend so what a surprise it turned out to be when it actually **was** a friend of his. Jeremy Anderson was a huge, tattooed, wasted looking mechanic, new in the Dowlings shop in Forks. Of course Dad had offered him a night at our house although when I came in, I wished nothing more than for him to leave.

"Jerry, this is Sophie, my wife's daughter-" I couldn't help but notice that I wasn't _his_ daughter but my mom's. "-You, this is Jeremy Anderson and until further notice, you're going to leave us the fuck alone and won't make a single noise got it?" Dad had greeted me with. He didn't care that I was home later than others because I'd told him my school ended at five o'clock so to him; I was perfectly on time.

I muttered a hello to Dad and tried to get to the kitchen when Anderson had gotten off the couch and followed me in.

"You making something, doll face?" he'd asked, smiling and showing the cigarette blackened teeth in his mouth. I didn't stare at him just grabbed the bag of frozen chips and frozen beer battered fish out of the refrigerator and gotten to work. He didn't leave, just kept watching me as I cooked, putting things in the oven and trays and such. It was unnerving. I went to put the fish away and but Anderson beat me to it, already opening the fridge door and leaning against it. I tried not to get too close out of instinct but also because this man was staring at me like I was a piece of meat or something.

"D-Dad, food's ready." I called out to him and there was a groan as he lifted himself off the couch and staggered in the kitchen, a cigarette but between his teeth. So he was drunk and smoking: great.

"What did I say? Do not bother me and what d'you do? You drag both of us in for something that you coulda just left on the table. Bloody useless, what did I say Jeremy?" he laughed, bitterly and Anderson surveyed me again before smiling a definingly creepy smile.

"I don't know Jack; she's a pretty little thing. Might make some money off her one day." He laughed, never taking his eyes off me. I shuddered and grabbed my own portion of food and trying to get past the two drunken men. Dad was too busy laughing with Jeremy to block me but I felt Anderson's hand glide across my shoulders and down my back for a second when I moved past him. I didn't look back. Just ran faster.

Even the memory gave me chills and I shuddered, getting back to my studies. Except, I thought as I looked down, that I was done. Which left me nothing to do. Which got me thinking of Paul…

I could've thrown my books out my window if I didn't need them for class out of frustration. It'd been worse in library; I was still trying to figure out why Paul was talking to me then.

It was still inconceivable: I was a socially inept, barely present girl who had never spoken to him in his life and NOW he wanted to start a friendship? And what's more…I don't know there just seemed to be more. I had barely covered half of my Economics work before I found myself doodling question marks in the corners and thinking of the insanely odd looks I kept getting from him.

And then there was the fact that he completely ignored my warnings! Not only was it stupid to do so, it was annoying to be simply over looked all the time.

Paul kept asking me, why not and I couldn't give satisfactory answers. How do you squish nine years of complete hell into four minutes of conversation: _Oh yeah, you can't be my friend because I'm a bit emotionally unstable from the last nine years when my life started to look like someone threw it in a paper shredder. Also my favourite colour is red and I'm a cat person, thanks for asking._

Somehow, I don't think it would work well enough for him to leave me alone. And I was starting to find, I didn't want it to. I could hear it in my own voice whenever I tried to explain why we couldn't be friends, he was wearing me down.

Would it really be so bad? Of course he'd have to start buying my lies and he'd never ever meet my father, but would it be so terrible to have Paul as my friend? Which brought me back to my point: I wasn't thoroughly convinced it was only friendship he wanted. Like I said: there seemed to be more.

Unless the more was some kind of trap. I sound paranoid but it was exactly the type of thing that I was afraid of…a whole 'Carrie' set up: boy tricks girl, girl gets humiliated…only I didn't have superpowers to take revenge on everyone afterwards. Not that I'd ever have the guts to do it and further more I don't think I'd want to hurt anyone, especially Paul.

So maybe it was better that I stay away from him because I wouldn't even have the initiative to stand up for myself later on which would probably make me an easy target…but then again, if it was really only friendship he was interested in, that would be a terrible idea too because eventually he'd notice something was off. And as much as I hated my current living circumstances, I wouldn't- _couldn't_- have anyone grow suspicious of my father and me.

So I was either getting into of a trap that was sure to end in my humiliation and possible further teasing or I was going to draw unwanted attention to something I was trying to keep off the radar, by starting a friendship with Paul…Ugh.

Lose/lose situation.

I closed my text books, my brain hurting with my predictions. _Don't think about him at all then Sophie. _I demanded of myself as I put my things in my bag for the next day. I could hear vague commotion from the house down from us. A party probably. I walked to the window, kneeling on the window seat cushions to open my curtains a bit. I was right. They were the only people up at this absurdly early time but they seemed happy about it. There were a series of fairy lights twinkling around our neighbour's patio and a group of adults were lazing around laughing. One of them had a guitar and plucked at the strings. I smiled, faintly. At least someone was having a good night.

"WHAT KIND OF A FUCKNG PASS WAS THAT, RENOLDS?!" boomed Anderson from below. Suddenly they were laughing loudly and there was even more smoke coming up the stairs. I sighed, getting up to close my door from the ashen smell. It stunned my nose with a sort of tainted burn and made me think of the scar on my back. Tenderly, I stroked my back, right under my shoulder blade where the tiny circular burn mark was still visible, even after two years. Even more tentatively, I touched right below it; a thin pink scar of about four centimetres followed the curve of waist from where I was thrown against the fireplace grate.

_Don't think about that either Sophie. _My inner sane voice quipped. Maybe it was just me but it sounded almost exasperated with me. Unknowingly, I'd gravitated towards the window again and I sat down, playing with the thin lacy white curtains that had been made by my mother. _Not her either._

But what did that leave me to think about?

I sighed, growing more annoyed by the minute. Chancing a look out of my curtains, I saw the big white moon and the pointed edge of the La Push forest and way off in the distance, the rugged mountain ranges of the border between Oregon and Forks poked up from the south. A beautiful scene that made me wish I had learned more in my art classes a few years ago.

I was about to turn away when something flashed near the edge of the dark tree line, white and big. My eyes strained through the darkness, although it wasn't difficult in the bright moonlight. I wondered if it was a car, it looked big enough for it. My eyes widened and I had a sort of choked, inhale of breath as I leaned further to the window.

What I saw was…_most definitely __not__ a car_.

It was huge, almost as big as cow or horse and covered with dark grey fur that had patches of white, lit up in the moonlight. I had lost my mind. Officially. I knew that one of these days, something would come along and I would snap. Today was that day, I thought, stunned as the enormous dark grey wolf padded lightly into my front yard, completely unnoticed.

I felt stupid as I finished sweeping the street- it was almost getting on 2 in the morning, who would be up at this time. Even the party was beginning to pack up, I could see the fairy light flicker and dim to a black as they migrated inside. The missing of the warm golden light made the white and black contrast of everything else seem more sinister.

The wolf's head twitched to the door and then to the lower window and I wondered what it saw; Anderson and my Dad smoking on the couch? Yelling at the television? Passed out drunk? But then it looked slowly and deliberately upwards, it's big oddly light eyes unblinking and stared right at my window.

But I didn't turn away.

Somewhere, in the more logical, smart side of my brain, I knew that staring animals (especially enormous, dangerous animals like this one) in the eye was seen as a threat but instinct made me stare at it. It laid down with a thump and put its head on its front paws, its tail thumping against the moist grass. A tiny giggle escaped my lips; it looked absurdly like a puppy with a new toy.

Its head cocked to one side and its jaws opened (showing the razor sharp teeth lined up like knives in its mouth) and closed, not threateningly but almost…_as in a yawn._ Yep, insane. I felt oddly worried about the wolf when I took in the definite weariness around its shoulders but immediately shook myself: firstly, it probably wasn't even real and secondly, it was a _wolf!?_ I should be wondering if it was coming to eat me or start calling the rangers not feeling worried about the last time it took a nap!

My head danced in circles and I didn't even notice what I was doing as I unlocked my window. I was on the second storey I mean…how high could it jump? Really? The night was cold and blew in the window like a gale but it calmed after a moment or two and I stared down at the wolf, feeling completely stupid as I peeked over the sill and slid my legs over the sill and balanced my toes on the little stone arch above our door. I'd come out here a few times when we were younger, even as far back as when my mother was alive.

The wolf reacted oddly. It jerked into motion from his otherwise still position and made a sort of whimper in the back of its throat. I frowned, swinging my legs absently. "What?" I muttered, looking around for a sign of distress. But everything was startlingly quiet on my street as I watched the wolf.

Now, discounting the fact that I'm insane and hallucinating and I wasn't actually seeing things clearly, I also felt the need to add the observational side of me to the argument. Even if I had thought it was real (which it wasn't), it was also too big to be plausible. I wasn't going to go into the fact that to my memory, not many wolf packs were situated around these parts, at least none of the ones I'd ever heard of, but this was the largest wolf I'd ever seen (not that there'd be many) by far. No wolves grew that big, it was implausible to the laws of science and nature-

The wolf swung its head jerkily at my feet, which were swinging again in answer. In. Answer. My eyes widened in shock and my feet stopped swinging. It may have been me but the wolf wore a look of triumph. "Did you just answer me?" I whispered, half to myself. The wolf barked once and I almost fell off the sill. It whimpered again, loudly as I scrambled back through my window. I needed to be on solid ground before I actually did fall out the window. Because my father probably wouldn't take me to hospital if I did. The wolf barked again and I stared at it before blinking and closing the windows again. This was _crazy! Insane! Not Normal!_

I yanked the curtains shut…but I peered through the lace and waited until it trotted back over the road and into the woods before I finally fell asleep, the thought to check up on mutated-wolf warnings in the area tomorrow, floating through my head…

Well, that and frustrating thoughts of Paul Beckett of course.

**

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**

I got a few questions that I figure might need answering before we continue, if you have anymore, please, feel free to drop a line and interrogate me about my story...

**So: **

**Why is Paul not with Rachel??**

_**Well, not to offend anyone, but the whole thing flowed ****too much for me. I mean Rachel is allowed in on the secret because Paul imprints on her…the whole things too convenient. I pride m story on being difficult. Not so easy, if you get what I mean.**_

**Who's inside the House??**

_**Anderson, as you've just seen. I hope he freaks you guys out as much as he does me. And that's saying something considering, I wrote ****him. **_

**Whatever happened to Erika??**

**_She'll be back! Promise! Actually, she's got a key part to play in this so don't count her out just yet. ;)_**

**Tress Blues**


	10. Bet Me Once Part 1

**I think I need to mention that I'm being **_**blackmailed **_**to update this time. I knew telling my friends about this site would be a bad idea and now they're pestering me for new stuff! This is for the lovely Ruby, who so thoughtfully rang me at 7:30 tonight to remind me to update so without further ado:**

* * *

Chapter 9. Bet me Once, Shame on You  
**_Part One_**

_Sophie_

When I woke the next morning, first thing I did was change and duck downstairs to see if that big, ugly creep Anderson was gone and thank god he was because I don't think I could've stand another of his spine-chilling looks. I peeked outside today, wondering how far I might get before Paul appeared in his white mustang and stared at me til I caved. I weighed my chances and sighed, knowing that there was never a chance I'd run away anyway. Despite the fact that it was a terrible idea, I wanted to be his friend. Even if it lead to me being humiliated, it would be nice while it lasted, I tried to console myself.

My shower was cut short by the thumping on the stairs and I froze with my hand on the tap. Dad wouldn't come up here this early. He was still sleeping when I'd checked but there was a groan as the door down the hall slammed, making me flinch. He wasn't going to work today, I thought miserably. If he caught a single glance of Paul and me, it would set him off like gunpowder.

I dressed quickly and silently, digging up my jeans from yesterday, the darker pair of my two and decided, after a few minutes of careful musing over clothes, that I desperately needed to do a wash some time on the weekend. I slipped on a plain brown knit sweater and fiddled with the slight blood stain on the bottom idly. I remembered this shirt, now that I wore it; I remembered it from a while ago when I received the two white scars on my ankle: an incident where I was thrown against a heater and burnt myself badly. But I shook my head, willing myself not to think about any of it.

Paul's dark brown leather jacket sat in the corner of my room and my hand trembled slightly as I picked it up, sliding my arms through the sleeves. I was right, I thought absently, lifting the lapel to my face. It did smell like him. Suddenly I dropped the collar like I'd been electrocuted. I shouldn't do that. I really, really shouldn't. It was just torture to see another friendship dangling in the air before being snatched away and I was not helping the matter by thinking these incessant stupid, _stupid_ thoughts about him. But hope and wishing still twirled around my head like dancers.

Thoughts from last night ran through my head, more specifically of the smell of oaks and sea salt Paul brought with him when he drove me home last night. I rolled my eyes as I picked up my bag and looked at the clock. Ten past eight flashed on the fifth hand clock and I wondered to myself if Paul would actually pick me up this morning or if he'd forgotten and moved on to another girl to harass just as a soft croak came from my father's bedroom.

"Sophie?"

I swallowed, frozen in place, my eyes widening. My breath stopped. I think I forgot how to suck in the air. The only sound I could hear was my dad's whisper, echoing through my head. It wasn't an angry sound or a threatening gesture…it sounded sad, timid almost. My feet moved on my own free will despite the fact that as I reached his doorway, my mind jumped from its static state and screamed at me: _RUN! Leave, right NOW!_

"Yes Dad?" I whispered, studying the room instead of looking at him. His face was rugged and sleep deprived despite the night's slumber. He always looked like that though so it wasn't much of a surprise. His eyes were red rimmed from drinking and smoking all night. But other than that, he sat at the foot of his unmade bed, bottles and other garbage littering the floor around him in hills as he fingered a worn old photograph that I knew from all my life.

He picked at the edges before looking up and staring me dead in the eye. It was silent for a while and neither of us moved. Did he sense how taut I was about seeing him? Did he sense how I wished to run outside and go to school, anything to get away from the worn and accusing stare that my father had adopted since I was eleven? Or did he see the fractured, twisted hope in my eyes; hope that one day things would be better, if not perfect? Hope, I realised, that had not been there a few days ago. Whatever he saw, he seemed neutral with. "You remember this?" he asked, gruffly, holding up the photo.

I gulped, nodding jerkily. I didn't speak because I didn't think I could hold in the flinching and wincing that was sure to come out if I did. He sighed, running a finger over it. "Good days," he breathed, so softly I barely heard him. In the light, the innocence of the morning, everything in the room, everything we'd done seemed darker.

Against the powder blue walls, the seemingly weak but twisted figure of my father showed the even darker side, one that ate away at him with alcohol and nicotine. The bed and the garbage didn't seem mountainous but flat like the ocean, dark and just as inclined to drown anyone who neared them, namely my father and myself, both of us sitting on two little islands on the water.

The windows let in the light but they didn't let it back out, making the room seem even more like a black hole. I wondered what I looked like. Mom used to call me a little doll, like the little porcelain ones I used to receive. I was thrilled whenever she smiled at me and called me Dolly, or Doll because it made me mean something to her.

But what did I look like now? Still a doll maybe? But different too. Darker perhaps? In the morning light, did I look twisted and fractured like my father? Did I look defeated? Did I look maimed? I remember when I dropped one of the dolls I loved so much, the ones my long dead grandmother sent me every birthday when we lived in Virginia. I remember crying and sobbing when I saw her lovely face cracked, her arms splayed out and one of her legs twisted at an odd angle. Back then, it hadn't been too hard to fix her. If I was the doll, I mused, how hard would it be to fix me?

"So much like Anna…" Dad whispered, faintly as he stared out through his window which faced the south of the front yard where the hydrangeas grew in the corner. They were over grown and crawled out of the bed as if daring someone to clip it back. Suddenly his face hardened and he tossed the picture to the side table and leaning his head in his hands. "Leave. Just…leave." He muttered and I walked, quietly down the staircase, my senses numb as I did.

I sat on the front steps, tentatively watching down the street, hugging the sleeves of Paul's jacket (miraculously overlooked by my father although I was most definitely glad I'd accepted it now) around myself as I tried to think of something other than that broken doll. Because with her cracked face came images of my mother, during her happy days, her kind days, days when I was loved, when I loved others…

Suddenly Paul's mustang drove into view, parking at the curb and he grinned out of the driver's window. I stood up, brushing all my thoughts off and left them on the steps. Making my way over to the car, I smiled at Paul, weakly. "Didn't think I was going to show up did you?" he asked, as if reading my thoughts. I shrugged, sheepishly.

"I'm not used to having people wait on me hand and foot." I said in my defence as he rolled his eyes and pointed at the passenger seat.

"Get in, Sophie." Was it me, or did he sound exasperated? I hopped in, dragging my bag with me. He grinned awfully big when I did and I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.

"What?" I asked, self-consciously but he shook his head.

"Nothing. I thought I'd have to tie you to the front seat to get you in the car and now you're going willingly? It's mind blowing." He chuckled as I rolled my eyes and he started the car. As we drove in easy silence, I watched Paul Beckett out of the corner of my eye. Sometimes he'd peek over too and flush the tiniest bit when he saw me watching him. The weird thing was that with anyone else, I would've found it awkward and weird and completely uncomfortable but with Paul…it was an odd feeling but we sort of just clicked. I scoffed internally. I sounded way, way, way too much like Erika, I realised.

My thoughts danced away from me after a few moments, unwillingly to the wolf from last night. I found myself wondering where it was now, what it was doing…whether it would be back tonight. My mind played tricks on me as we sped down the road, the trees blurring into a green curtain. Was that a flash of grey right there? Was the wolf out there? Was it watching me? "Do you know anything about wolves in this area?" I asked, suddenly, blurting it out without a filter.

I should've kept quiet.

The effect my words had on Paul was conspicuous, just like that time I asked about my dented car. His fingers tightened so hard on the steering wheel that the knuckles went bone white and the ring made a whining noise in protest. His jaw clenched and his slouched position went rigidly straight. "What about them?" he asked, stiffly and I was too stunned to make a noise. The mood swings were driving me around the room (as in not just up the wall but across the ceiling and back down to the floor too) and I stammered when I tried to make sense of them in my head out of habit.

_So he reacts to wolves oddly? But not just wolves, wolves in La Push. _"Nothing really just…are they meant to be so _big_?" I asked, wondering aloud. The size of the horse-like wolf hadn't really startled me until the morning when I woke up, sure that it'd been a dream until I saw the graze on my ankle…proof that I had actually been standing on the stone arch, proof I'd almost fallen off when the wolf answered me.

Paul laughed, trying to settle back into the slouch from before but you could see through the white shirt he wore (which fit him a lot more snugly than I would've liked considering my position on the 'Friendship' front) that he was still rigid. "So have you seen one of them?" he asked, his laughter slightly edged.

_He knows something. Something different…he's nervous he's going to tell me, on accident or something. _I tried to silence the voice in brain that was dissecting his every move. It was an annoying voice although it'd saved me on more than one occasion from my father's rages.

"Yeah, last night. It-it was the weirdest thing." I said, my voice going back to my memories. Sleep deprivation made details blurry although the wolf…I could picture it all too well. "I looked outside and there it was-"

"He." Paul broke in, almost absentmindedly and I frowned at him, wondering firstly how he knew and secondly why it mattered to him.

"What?"

"He, the wolf it's a he." His face went from distracted to horrified to calm in the span of three seconds. If you blinked, you would've missed it. "I mean, the big ones are all males. The smaller ones don't usually come up to civilisation, you know." He explained, hastily. I decided to let it go.

_He knows about wolves in La Push, he knows about the big ones anyway…_

"He then." I agreed, suspiciously. "I looked outside and there he was, just sitting on my front lawn. It was insane and I wondered why he was there and so I opened up my window and sat on the sill, like I used to as a kid you know? And anyway, I did that and it- he- whined and I think I asked him what was wrong and it- he- he answered me." My voice turned amazed. It was getting better in my memory now. "It pointed, with his head at my feet and I stopped swinging them and then I asked him if he, you know, answered me and…it barked."

_And he knows something about how he dented my car because no normal person should be able to do that…_

Paul laughed, edged again but with something different. "You know you shouldn't have been hanging out of the window in the first place." He ran a hand through his short and jet black hair. "You could've seriously hurt yourself."

"I was fine." I told him, eying the way his hair didn't sit flat, but ruffled back up in a spiky disarray…"But seriously this thing was…_insanely_ big." Paul wore a smirk as we turned into the car park, pulling up into the empty bay. There was at least ten more minutes until school began so I sat back in my seat, ready for an answer.

"I wouldn't worry about the wolves around here…they like La Push people." He said, as if there was some sort of inside joke I wasn't privy to. I shook my head, trying to get rid of my theories that rattled around like marbles and realised I was still wearing Paul's jacket. I blushed, knowing I should've given it back the first time I saw him. I went to slide it off when suddenly Paul held onto my wrist, gently. "What are you doing? If you don't have a jacket, use mine. It's not like I use it anyway."

I could believe that. Simply his grasp on my wrist was like a heat pack, spreading warmth all the way down my arm, seeping into my bones…it took all of my willpower to reclaim my hand. "Thank you, really but I'll grab my jacket off the cleaners. Erika will have a field day if I show up wearing Paul Beckett's leather jacket." I rolled my eyes, mimicking the smitten girls at school and he laughed. I slid the jacket off and handed it back to him and he carefully stowed it away in the back.

"Just in case." He said when I threw him a questioning look. I smiled.

"Just in case the cleaners took a jacket that looks like it's been through a war." I agreed, searching my wrist for a hair lackey to tie my hair up. But I must've forgotten to add one to my wrist this morning because I checked both and none things was there. "Shoot, you wouldn't happen to have a rubber band around here or something would you?" I asked, checking my pockets and making my hair pop out from behind my ears.

I could have sworn I heard the very lightest gasp before I turned to Paul and frowned, questioningly. His face was dead sober as he raised one hand and gently, oh so lightly, tucked the locks of hair behind my ears again. My eyes wavered in their sockets just the tiniest bit and I cursed myself. _Cut it OUT Sophie! _His hand slid around to my jaw, skimming it lightly before resting at the side of my neck. My face went red and pink and god knows what else at his warm touch. "I like your hair out." He whispered, running his hand through the hair around my shoulders.

Well when he put it like that…

There was a loud whistle and both our faces snapped to look out the windshield. Paul's friends were gathered around the school stairs, smirking and I think I even saw a few of them exchanging money like a bet. When they saw they had our attention, they all lifted the arms and waved, deliberately at us both, in complete unison, as if they were one person in a Hall Of Mirrors or a series of clones. Well, I thought, ducking my head and trying to sink into the ground. I've been publicly humiliated enough.

_And I'd bet it's something to do with his friends, why they all look so old and big…_

_Not the time! _I screamed back at the voice.

The car started to shake a little and remembering last time, I looked over, startled at Paul whose eyes were tightly closed and his hands looked ready to snap the steering wheel in half. My eyes widened. Was he having a seizure or something? Jesus, what was going on with this boy? Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted, inattentively, a few of the others frowning making a step towards us but I ignored them as I reached out to touch his arm, fearing an epileptic fit or something. "Paul? Paul!"

The shaking stopped as soon as I asked his name but I didn't move my arm until his eyes opened. "Paul?" I asked, firmly with concern. He looked me dead in the eye with something a little like wary astonishment. "Are you okay?"

Paul shook his head and for a moment I touched my hand to his forehead, thinking about what on earth could cause this kind of violent tremors when I realised it wouldn't help to take his temperature considering…"Why are you so hot?" I asked before realising how that sounded and blushing furiously. Paul chuckled as I withdrew my hand, rapidly. "I didn't mean it like that…I mean, you are…but you're also…and its more to do with the temperature than anything…it's…you…I…oh screw it." I grumbled, defeated.

Paul grinned, his whole face lighting up. "You think I'm hot?"

"Yes…I mean no…it's not-" I stammered, still blushing. I got the feeling he was doing this just to make my cheeks flush, from the look on his face.

"I'm not hot?" he pouted, looking ridiculous as he did. "That's awful to say Sophie."

"I didn't mean it like that. You're…what I meant to say was…I mean, it's difficult-" I couldn't form coherent sentences, I decided, with him this close to me and smiling like that.

"To tell how hot I am?" he asked. I went four more shades redder and groaned.

"Please stop avoiding the question and tell me why you're running a temperature of five hundred degrees?" I grumbled, not meeting his eyes for fear that that four shades of red would go into over drive.

"Well it's not actually five hundred, that's just silly Sophie-" _Don't look at him, don't look at him, don't look at-_ "It's more like a hundred and eight."

"What!?" I snapped, my eyes bugging out of my head. "Paul, have you seen a doctor lately?"

"No, it's a normal symptom or so I'm told." He shrugged it off and I frowned, questioningly. His absurdly handsome face became mischievous in an instant. "I'm secretly on a new governmental drug like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. That's why I'm so big and all, you know." He teased and I rolled my eyes.

"Have you even read 'Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde'?" I asked, amused. Paul's face scrunched up.

"I might've used it as a pillow in class one time." He offered, squinting. I giggled and whacked his arm, playfully. He grinned again, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree. "You know, you just laughed at my joke and then hit me as a joke." He commented, slyly. I nodded, my brows furrowing slightly, trying to figure out when this became breaking news. "Which means that we are acting like-"

"Friends." I finished for him and sighed. "Paul, I've told you, I am a terrible, terrible person to have as a friend." I was, I so, _so_ was. I kept secrets, I lied, I could never go out, I wasn't even the same grade as him, I could never have him over, my father would tell him everything if he ever found out and he'd give _me_ hell for it too…

"You," he growled softly looking straight at my eyes. "could never be a terrible person Sophie, no matter what you think of yourself."

I smiled weakly. Erika told me that from time to time, although they were empty words to an even emptier heart. "Thanks Paul. I'm still standing by my statement though." I told him, opening the door and getting out of the car. Paul smiled, almost as if he couldn't help himself and yanked a ratty looking bag out of the back seat.

"Well, I'll just have to change your mind then." He murmured, appearing beside me in a few short steps. He truly towered over me; I'd never noticed because sitting in the car evened us out a little. The bell rang and I smiled at Paul as I clambered up the steps, peeking over everyone else to see if Erika had arrived yet. She spotted me easily enough and then spotted Paul and her face broke out into a scowl before she waved me over furiously. "What's she want?" he asked, amused and annoyed. He probably remembered Erika from when she screamed her head off at him in the parking lot the other day.

"To ask me why she saw me rock up in your car today." I muttered, more resigned than anything else. I turned to Paul and smiled. "Thank you, again."

"Five again after school?" he asked, eagerly. I laughed and shook my head.

"I don't get you. You really, really, want to be my friend don't you?" I asked, trying to keep the amazement out of my voice. Paul was fighting me to be my friend. The simple idea had my head spinning but Paul shrugged, smirking. And god, he looked really, really, _really_ good when he did that…_more and more like Erika every day, _I berated myself internally.

"You got me there. Five again after school?"

I studied him, speculatively before the bell rang again and people began to file inside again. "Sure. Thanks Paul, for…you know, everything."

Paul bowed, mockingly. "Your wish is my command."

"Then I wish you would get to class and actually come up with a decent excuse for your temperature." I snickered as his face went paler. He'd thought I'd forgotten about it, that he was so clever changing the subject…right.

I waved goodbye and shuffled over to Erika, who narrowed her eyes at me. "Sophie…" she said in a warning voice.

"Rika…" I copied, not meeting her eyes. She cast a single long look over her shoulder before giggling and nudging me.

"Don't look now but Beckett is totally staring at you."

And so began the day of Erika's Eternal Amusement.

---

I walked into Mathematics, the only class I didn't have with Erika, with a tired face. My head kept trying to fly back to the steps of my house, to the conversation I had with my father this morning. I sat down and pulled out my books, reading through the chapters that were meant for today…chapters that I was ashamed to say, I'd already read and covered. Erika was right, I was such a nerd.

_The law of sines (also known as the sine rule) for arbitrary triangle states: a/sin A = b/sin B = c/sin C = 2R -_

"Sophie right?" a deep voice asked and my head snapped up so fast the stranger flinched. I'm sure I looked stunned because people rarely talked to me unless it was to find out the homework of the past few days or to ask me to move. Very, very rarely did one of these people actually know my name.

When I looked up, I'm sure I went from stunned to heart-attacked because none other than Jacob Black was staring down at me, looking slightly uneasy. I recognised him as one of the clones from this morning and my cheeks blushed furiously as I nodded. "Yes…"

His face brightened considerably upon realising he got my name right. "Hi, I'm Jacob." He claimed, holding out a hand. "I sit next to you in this prison."

I was startled into a smile as I took his hand, almost withdrawing immediately when I felt the same temperature as Paul. Weird…"Prison is a little harsh." I said, softly, not knowing what else to say. He slumped into his seat.

"Really? I was going to go with hell but then if it _were_ hell, there wouldn't be calculators to do the work for us." He grinned. "But seriously, you're Sophie right? The one Paul won't shut up about?"

My cheeks went as red as apples but I couldn't hold back a smile. "I'm Sophie but I don't know about the other…" I confirmed, modestly. Jacob laughed.

"I knew it." He declared. "You were the only one who was actually reading the text book and from what I hear, you study outside of school too?" he explained, his face looking a bit green at the possibility. I really didn't get why people were so opposed to school but then again, I didn't get out much. If I did, I supposed I would hate it as much as the next person.

"Y-yeah b-but it's more out of routine…really." I pointed out, lamely. This, this was why I didn't like people talking to me. I got embarrassed way, way too easily.

"Routine?" Jacob echoed, sounding choked. I nodded. "Exactly how far ahead are you?"

I sighed, doing a few quick mathematical calculations in my head. "Well…I've covered parts of next terms assignments from the briefs and a looked through a few of the new textbooks so I'd say around a semester ahead?" It came out in a tiny voice sounding more like a question. I didn't make eye contact, hoping he'd leave me alone now. I really hated talking to people, it made me nervous and quiet and tiny and-

Jacob broke out in laughter, bright, loud laughter. "Are kidding me? That is _awe-some_." He split the word in two as he grinned at me. The teacher was late but everyone had already filed in and a few people that weren't too interested in their conversations were a bit too interested in mine; they stared at little, quiet Sophie getting attention from one of the 'La Push Gang' members. Because I just _love_ attention.

"Th- thanks." I said, softly, trying to get back to my chapters, hoping he'd stop talking to me.

"So do you actually get what's written in there?" he asked, slouching in his seat and pointing to the book. I smiled, wryly.

"That's kind of the point, Jacob." I pointed out quietly. Jacob grinned and waved his hand dismissively.

"Sure, sure. Call me Jake though, everyone else does." He said airily. "Sophie," it was so extremely odd to hear my name from him and not Erika or Paul or the teachers. No one really bothered knowing my name if they could help it. "Can you explain something to me please?" He looked dead serious and I nodded, hesitantly. "What the hell is this class about?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "We've been back for almost three weeks and you don't know what the class is about?" I clarified, amused. Jacob shrugged as the teacher flew in, his arms stacked up with papers.

"Good afternoon students, we have to get on with this lesson, we have to cover quadratic unsolvable ratios with a highest common multiple of negative degrees today, so pens out and begin taking notes!" he gushed out in one breath and Jacob's jaw dropped before he smirked and leaned over to me.

"Psst, Hermione," he hissed and I turned to him, momentarily surprised.

"Hermione?" I repeated, not quite sure I wanted to know what the reasoning behind _that _was.

Jacob grinned however, brightly. "Yeah, you know Hermione of Harry Potter. She was the one that knew everything two years in advance. Anyway, I know what the class is about now." He whispered and I was quite close to rolling my eyes.

"Really?" I asked, a very slight smile on my face. "And what is that?"

"Big words I don't really know how to spell."

---

_Paul_

"Tell me I'm good," Jake declared, sliding into his seat at the cafeteria table with a smug smile. I grunted, digging into the questionable meat on my plate. It was meat, I could tell that much but it was in blood red liquid and yellow salsa looking _something_ on top. I'm sure you're imagining something tomato soup-ish cuisine but unfortunately…it looked like a dandelion's head had exploded and landed in a bowl of blood. Ergh. Embry and Quil looked up though and simultaneously groaned.

"You didn't! Man, that's messed up!" Quil moaned, while he fished for his wallet in his jean shorts. Jacob laughed, triumphantly and Embry rolled his eyes while he forked over twenty bucks.

"What's all this money exchanging hands that I'm not part of?" Collin asked as he sat down with his plate piled high. Jacob fanned himself with the forty bucks while Quil kicked the table out of annoyance.

"Jake won the bet, dirty cheater." He grumbled, crossing his arms. Seth and Brady appeared next, already eating and walking. I looked on confusedly and Jared winced as Jacob held out his hand to him, smirking.

"No, no, no, you ain't getting my money yet. There's gotta be proof Jake, proof." He insisted as Seth raised his head, interested.

"Proof of what? Oh god, tell me you didn't go ahead with that lame-ass bet…" he took silence as confirmation and slammed into a seat down from me. "Sweet Jesus…"

Suddenly it clicked and I growled, low and threatening. Because there was only one bet that Seth would call completely moronic and stupid and that was the Imprint Bet. How did I not see this coming?! "Who started it?" I hissed, my fists beginning to shake. It made more sense now: the grinning and waving before school, the money passing hands, why I hadn't been in on the bet to begin with…

The guys stared down at their plates, sheepishly while I scanned their faces. Jared caught my eye and winced. "Jared?! What the hell man, I thought you'd be against this after what happened last time!" I moaned, glaring at all of them. Shameless now that someone had owned up to it, the rest of the Pack dug into their food, happily.

"Sorry man but to be fair, I thought I could make some quick money," he shrugged. "You stole the fifty bucks I made last week in the stores in that other stupid dare."

The Imprint Bet was the Alphabets idea, of course. It basically a bet to see who the new inducted imprint of the Pack liked the best (bar the said Imprinter) and the winner got an easy twenty bucks off everyone who entered. This was roughly $120 if you didn't count Seth (who refused any part of it, claiming it was a dumb idea to begin with), Sam (who couldn't be bothered) and Leah (who was like Seth in that she thought it was stupid…except she got violent if we ever thought about it on patrol. Needless to say even if she entered she probably wouldn't win)

Of course, this had only come around after Jared imprinted: we couldn't make the bet on Emily or we'd cop it big time from Sam. Kim liked to pretend that we'd never made the bet at all in her case because they were three weeks of her life that were spent with six massive werewolves asking her every three seconds who she liked best. Course, Embry won that time. And they were just_ dying_ to try it out for the second time.

But it really just ticked me off because the little I did know about Sophie included that she would feel very…overwhelmed. She practically had a fit when I started paying her attention and with this stupid bet…the shaking got worse but the rest of the Pack didn't even blink an eye. They were used to my mood swings and trusted I'd be able to bring it under control in time. _Think about Sophie…_but that made me shake even more, thinking about how uncomfortable she'd be around the guys; she was barely warming up to me. _Okay, think about Ma…she'd be pissed if you broke another cafeteria table…Zoe would get bragging rights for eternity…can't have that…_

"So Jake, how'd you know she likes you best?" Embry called over and Quil's eyes narrowed.

"Yeah, how do I know you aren't ripping me off man?" he said, suspiciously. Jacob pouted, mock-hurt as I calmed down.

"Would I do that to you?" he whined, putting his hands over his heart. The entire pack snorted in unison.

"Hell yes." Embry said, glaring at Jacob. He rolled his eyes and smirked.

"Well besides that lack of faith you guys show in me, I got math with her, she actually knows the shit. I've got a permanent translator for the rest of the year and besides, she's wicked funny. _And_ I made her laugh. Twice." Everyone groaned except for Jared who sized Jacob up, thoughtfully.

"We'll wait for the bonfire nonetheless though. Just to make certain." He declared, flicking some of the highly questionable lunch meat at Jake's face. He beamed.

"I'm getting money, I'm getting money," he chanted, handing back the money to Embry and Quil.

I couldn't help what happened next.

I was pissed, I'll freely admit. I was pissed that Sophie laughed twice with Jacob in one period of math and every laugh I got with her was cut short by her reminding herself that she wasn't meant to be my friend. Or anything else past that. So maybe I was more than angry, maybe I was a little jealous too. I didn't exactly care about the reason much. I'd looked around the cafeteria when I first sat down but I decided that if she hadn't been there yesterday, she probably wouldn't be there today and made a mental note to ask where she went for lunch. But as she wasn't here, I quickly thought, my next action wouldn't affect her in the slightest.

In little less than a split second, my questionable lunch meat was sailing through the air and landed (coincidentally) on Jacob's head…Oops.

In little more than a split second, the rest of the cafeteria had frozen and all eyes were on our table. Quil let out a low whistle and Jared bit his lip in apprehension. Seth, Brady and Collin shook with silent laughter as Jacob wiped the muck out of his eyes and smiled, viciously at me.

Next thing I knew, I had a dark brown sludge headed in my direction and I ducked, just in time to see it smack Bradley Crossman in the back of the head. Crossman was a prick and it was a well known fact amongst the general population. But he was also a basketball star _and_ a prick. Guess which one people payed more attention to huh?

Crossman turned a furious expression on his Colgate-worthy mouth as he grabbed the spaghetti in the lunchmeat (now that I looked closer, it really did have noodles in the bottom) and flung it across the cafeteria with the words "FOOD FIGHT!" as a battle cry.

All I could think was _sweet merciful crap_ because sadly it doesn't take much more than that coming from a _jock_ to get the students of La Push into a food war.

---

No one owned up to throwing the first food. I knew that everyone else knew it was me, despite the fact that Crossman and Jacob threw food too. I knew the teachers knew, I knew the students knew, I knew that Miss Bronte knew. But I also knew that no one would turn me in because I was allegedly part of a gang and the teachers had no proof otherwise.

Sometimes, it really, really, _really_, rocks to be a werewolf.

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**Did you know that this chapter is NINE pages long?? I sure didn't. I got carried away writing it. I got a little poetic with the whole Sophie/Dad confrontation…can't help it, I'm a sucker for dramatisation! **

**I hope you enjoy the Imprint Bet…it will be a reoccurring theme for the rest of the story.**

**Review please,**

**Tress Blues**


	11. Bet Me Once Part 2

**This chapter is dedicated to Jmac Karla because she has faithfully reviewed **_**every single one **_**of my chapters and they always brighten my day!**

**Hope you enjoy it,**

**Tress.**

**Without further ado:**

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Chapter 10. Bet me Once, Shame on You  
**Part Two**

_Sophie_

_The glaciers of the northern and southern hemispheres have recently become in danger, due to the rapidly rising temperatures around the planet Earth-_

"Psst."

_-because of the way it's atmosphere functions. Fossil fuels (created by burning of green house gasses in everyday activities) rise into the atmosphere and eat away holes in its surface. This-_

"_Psst_."

_-means that the sun's rays can enter the earth's atmosphere but the holes prevent it from leaving again. The rays' heat does not leave the earth and in doing so, raises our planet's temperature-_

"Psst! _Sophie_!"

_-to staggering temperatures. While this pattern continues, more and more rays are trapped, which scientists have discovered, may well lead to the melting of our ice masses. If this does occur, sea levels will rise-_

"_Sophie Miller! If you ignore me one more time-_" Erika hissed, leaving the threat hanging and I turned to her, looking exasperated.

"What?" I whispered, quietly as the teacher glided past. Erika waved a piece of paper at my face, in the aisle between us. **We need to talk**. I nodded, rolling my eyes slightly as I took more notes. After class, however, Erika pounced. Lunch sent us both to the cafeteria, first in and first out before it filled up with other people.

"So…" she wheedled and I blushed, picking up my sandwich and soda before following her out of the cafeteria. Erika had decided quite a while ago that sitting in the cafeteria was simply too much of a 'health hazard' so she usually dragged me outside with her, to sit on the bench under the tree near the front, even if it was colder outside than in.

"So?" I repeated, smiling slightly as we perched on the bench and pulled out our food. A few other students appeared on the oval, tossing a football around. I wondered, only very, very quickly, if Paul played football before wondering again why I was wondering that in the first place…before deciding it didn't matter and getting back to Erika Heather who was practically bursting.

"Sophie!" she squealed, a bright grin on her face. Erika was pretty and she knew it. She was the type of girl that had the looks and the personality that turned guys to mush. But she was saving herself, she always said. She wasn't interested in dating boys. She was looking for a '_man_'. Although the only _men_ she knew were her jolly-bellied father, her slacker older brother and a few of his friends who were 'lethargic, disease ridden geeks who didn't have a thought in their single celled brains apart from Dungeons and Dragons.' "You're catching rides to school with Paul Beckett and your laughing it up with Jacob Black in Math, when did you start being such a…_girl_."

She didn't mean it like an insult. But it stung a little. I knew perfectly well how inept I was at social skills. It amazed me that I was able to speak to someone other than Erika, let alone two of the La Push Gang. So I shrugged and smiled shyly. "It's nothing Rika. Really. Paul feels bad about breaking my car and Jacob…is hard to ignore." I said, struggling with my words a little.

Erika's face was positively beaming as she nudged me. "So…how much do you like Paul?" she asked, deciding not to sugar coat it apparently. My jaw dropped.

"None! I mean, he's- we're not even- Erika, I barely know him! It's not like that! I don't like Paul Beckett." I stammered, my cheeks growing pinker with each stumble. If Erika was beaming before, now, she was _glowing_.

"I knew it!" she shrieked, jabbing her fingers at my shoulder. "I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!"

"Stop that!" I snapped, laughing. "I do not like Paul Beckett so shush up!" I mumbled.

Erika sighed, leaning back and enjoying the tiniest stream of sunshine that came from the clouds. "Admit it Soph, the world will not end if you do." She closed her eyes. "So, what's this about Black?"

"He's a funny guy. We're not friends or anything but he's okay I guess." I said, easily. Which was true because Jacob was funny, quick, and nice. But it was the same reasoning I had with my annoyingly persistent chauffeur: I couldn't have friends. If I did, they might find out. If that happened, I would never forgive myself for failing my father yet again.

Erika smirked, slowly opening her eyes. "So why is it that you can answer questions about Jacob easily enough but when it comes to a certain Mr Beckett…" she trailed off and my eyes widened in outrage.

"Erika Michaela Heather please stop with the inferring!" I asked, the almost dead blush going from 0 to 100 in a moment.

"Oh come on Sophie!" she cackled, grinning wickedly. "You so like him and it's obvious he adores you." she pointed out before nudging me with her shoulder again. "And besides the fact that he is nine kinds of fine, he hasn't bothered this much with any other girl before."

"Rumours." I muttered.

Erika sighed, frustrated and ran a hand pointedly through her hair. "You're taking years off my life here Soph, help a girl out!" she pleaded but I smiled sadly and made a small zipping motion with my hand to my mouth. It was silent for a while as a few of the other students appeared, joining in with the football game or chatting, lazily. The clouds didn't look too opposing today and the foggy morning had cleared away. "Hey Sophie," Erika began with a nervous edge. I smiled at her, my brow slightly crumpled as I looked over.

"Yeah Rika?"

She fingered with the edge pf her jacket for a moment, making her bangs flip in front of her eyes, hiding her. "You know…I don't know how to put this…" Erika muttered, not meeting my eyes as she tapped her nails against the table. I frowned now, getting worried.

"What's wrong Erika? Are you okay?" I asked and she finally looked up at me, her dark eyes unfathomable. I didn't like Erika when she was like this. I preferred the light Erika, the laughing girl who was my greatest friend in the world instead of this sombre young lady who stared at me with eyes that made me feel like spilling my guts to someone who knew all the answers.

"Sophie, you know you can talk to me right?" she asked, hesitantly. Something in me tensed.

"Yeah, that's kinda what we're doing right now." I joked weakly. Erika rolled her eyes but the smirk disappeared as soon as it was formed.

"No, I mean…you know you can talk to me about...anything? No matter how terrible?" she probed and I cast my eyes down, composing my face. Calm Sophie, don't give anything away…when I looked up my face was smiling fakely.

"Of course Rika, you're my best friend, we can talk about all sorts of things." I agreed, playing around with some imaginary items in my bag. Erika bit her lip but nodded and smiled back at me.

"Well, just in case…you know you can talk to me." She repeated as we slipped into silence. It wasn't often I found silence with Erika; usually I needed an odometer to keep up with her pace but when I did it made me painfully aware of my problems. The silence was usually filled with worryings about whether I had broken my cover; whether she'd found something about me different.

"Thanks Rika." I said, smiling slightly before the bell rang and we retired inside to Science.

---

Paul picked me up from the library like yesterday, right on time. If I hadn't known any better, I'd say that he was tailing me but Erika had told me about the English incident and his detention. I felt kind of…disappointed? Maybe? I don't know…that he hadn't been there just for me but I beat it back. Nothing was going to happen. At all.

I could feel a dangerous sense hope begin to set in. I felt every once and a while, like a tiny seed waiting for the rain. But it was hazardous to believe in something better. This was life and I had to deal with it. When I was alone, without Erika to keep me sane or my text books to distract me, I mused about how it came about.

Every two months or so, I started feeling lighter. Like life was building up into something. But then it plummeted and I was left with broken pieces of sharp edged hope and I had to accept the facts. I couldn't be bitter about them, resent them. I mean, it wasn't like I hadn't seen it coming. I just got quieter than usual, softer. I retreated. And I was fine with it, even Erika seemed to take it as my 'down time'.

I should've known Paul wouldn't have.

The hope was growing and churning as I sat in the passenger seat of Paul's mustang, in comfortable silence as he turned down the weaving maze of streets to my own. At least, I thought it was comfortable. "So what's with you and Jacob? He was psyched at lunch." He asked, trying to keep a cool façade up. It cracked awfully into something like curiosity, slight annoyance and hurt. I frowned.

"Nothing, he- he just asked me about something in Math." I said, softly.

"Really? Is that it?" he looked happier. I smiled quietly and nodded but the silence didn't last long. Paul kept fidgeting and I could see the gears shifting in his mind. "Sophie…" he started. "Would you…err…I mean…dammit." He fumbled and I giggled, blushing a little. The hope went flying, right up to my throat and I had feeling if I opened my mouth it might spill out. Hope that maybe Paul was just as awkward as I was, hope that things in general were going to be better, hope that- "Are you busy on next weekend?"

The hope went squish with reality. I frowned, my shoulders stiffening and my body tensing. Hope was all well and good until the time came to do something about it. And I couldn't do anything. "Why?" I asked, guardedly.

"Well there's a ton of us going down to First Beach…there'll be a bonfire and legends and shit." He said, sounding pleading. I didn't look up at him. If I did, the hope might come back. He wasn't awkward at all. He was still Paul, still trying to be my friend and I hated my life's boundaries. I couldn't have two friends. I could barely keep one. I wasn't worth it. I wasn't good enough.

"I can't." I told him in a monotone. Paul flopped, looking less than pleased.

"Why not?"

"Because I have to stay home that weekend."

"What about-"

"And the next weekend."

"Well what about-"

"And the one after that."

And here marked the point at which we parted. Paul looked sad and even angry but more resigned than anything. He was realising it. He was getting my point. He was finally _understanding_. And I hated him for it. We pulled up to my driveway, inching as if Paul didn't want to end our time. _Well there won't be any other time._ I thought, grimly. No more time at all. Everything was going to snap back to the way it was now. He'd run along with his tall and handsome friends and I would stick to my study sessions and Erika. Normal had never sounded so bad.

"So I'll see you tomorrow morning?" Paul asked, trying to seem upbeat and failing miserably.

"No, my car will be fixed tomorrow, I'll be fine." I lied, smoothly. My voice had gone dead and quiet as I described a scenario that wouldn't ever exist. I was walking tomorrow, before I usually did, in La Push weather. Paul didn't even try to be optimistic this time.

"Oh."

We waited for a moment before I opened my door and beat the tears' leaking out from my lashes back, only that was all I felt like doing. It was odd because I almost never cried about things other than my father. "Thankyou for the lifts Paul. Goodbye." I knew he could tell what I meant by it: _Goodbye, we'll probably never be speaking again._

I made to get out of the car with my bag when Paul's hand covered my own. I almost yelped at the cold to warm temperature change. "Wait, Sophie…" he pleaded. I looked up at him and my heart snapped into pieces. His face was tired and confused and sadness didn't even cover it. It was almost…heartbroken.

I shook my head and gave a tiny grimace. "Bye Paul." Loosely shrugging out of his grip (although my heart told me to stay right there and fix his face), I hopped out and closed the door quietly. The tears started slipping down my cheeks and I wiped them away, telling myself how stupid I was. There was a reason I wasn't allowed to be happy. I was an awful person and this was my punishment. I opened my door and saw that my dad wasn't in. I closed the door and sank to the ground, listening as the car waited, backed out of my driveway and drove away at a pace that seemed torturously slow.

"Stupid Sophie, stupid, stupid, stupid." I whispered, crying. I hit my head on the back of the door in annoyance at life. It wasn't fair. It wasn't good. It wasn't great. Why did people like it so damn much?

Quickly and quietly I stood and took to the stairs, pausing before entering my father's bedroom. He wasn't in there either so I picked up the photo off the nightstand carefully. The thoughts of the morning, thoughts I'd left on the front steps, came surging back to me and I stared at the picture with resigned defeat. Alright, I thought, it's my fault. It's all my fault. I accept that.

The photo was something my Dad held on to like a lifeline. An image of a family: two blonde and happy looking parents were seated on a couch with the handsome husband at his beautiful wife's ear, whispering something to make her blush and a little girl sitting on her father's lap, Easter bunny ears on her head and a toothy grin on my face.

The only reason why Dad kept this picture was not her however…it was because of the baby boy sitting on his mother's lap, a chubby smile on my brother's baby face as he looked up at his family.

**

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**The Plot Thickens...**

**Tress Blues**


	12. Spacey McSpaceyton From Spaceville

**Hello lovelies,**

**Again, I need to mention that I'm having entirely too much fun naming these chapters. ****Anyway. Everyone wants to know about the little boy in the photo so instead of keeping you in the dark for a moment longer…I'm gonna keep you in the dark for a few **_**chapters **_**longer!**

**Aren't I evil?**

**Tress Blues**

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Chapter 11. Spacey McSpaceyton from Spaceville

_Paul_

Weekends were overrated.

In fact, they _sucked_.

_Man, stop being such a buzz kill._ Seth whined, loping down the south boundary.

_Yeah and I thought I was meant to be grumpy. _Jacob joked, talking the east. I was stuck doing northern duty, down by the water, almost on the opposite side of town as Sophie.

_I just don't get it! _I roared, ripping a small tree out of its roots and flinging it to the side as I ran. It was quiet, the barest flicker of scent from a bloodsucker the pack killed a week ago. Other than that, the whole of La Push was quiet and watery.

_Paul, seriously, get a grip. _That was Leah by the way. For the only girl of the pack, Leah was pretty damn unsympathetic. _What? Just because I'm a _girl _it means I have to have the whole lovey-dovey, love-will-find-a-way persona? _She asked, pissed.

I shrugged at her in my head, still moody. Sophie kept me calm. Sophie kept me centred. Sophie kept me sounding like a yoga ad but I didn't care. And apparently neither did she.

_Man, it'll get there in the end, just be patient and stop pissing everyone else off in the mean time! _Jacob snapped, getting 'over-emotional' too. Except Jake did it so often that everyone expected it from him. Me? I was usually all mad, all the time. And with the imprint urge driving me crazy, with no Sophie…My anger levels went like this: Annoyance went to Mad for support and Mad met up with Anger and Anger went to go have drinks with _Royally Pissed Off_.

Good buddies.

The sun was beginning to get to the middle of the sky and I knew I would be off duty for the rest of the weekend when it hit midday. So much rage and so much time to kill is never that great of a combination with me. _What did I do wrong? _The moss covered log near me got upturned as I lashed out. _I didn't do a fucking thing!_

_Language Paul, _Seth said, in a scary impression of his mother. I growled at him though, ticked. _It could've been any number of things really, _he added, reasonably. _The way you talk-_

_The whole possessive bullshit you pulled-_ This was Jacob's way of distracting himself I guess. Oh well. Made me madder, made me stronger, made me more eager to rip his leg off. Too bad for him.

_That weird habit of shaking-_

_Like in the car? Jesus, I thought we were going to have to rip you out of there before she saw the fur! _Jacob cackled, thinking back to the day. I felt queasy through all the rage and another tree shuddered when I tore my claws down it. _You were so whipped._

_Hell yeah! Did you see it? One little touch and he was grinning like Mickey Mouse! _Seth seemed comfortable taunting me. Probably because the little punk was on the opposite side of La Push from me. Near Sophie's place. Lucky bastard.

_Seth, when I'm through with you, there won't be enough teeth to identify you by your dental records _I hissed, snapping at a pair of deer in the forest. They took off at a break neck pace I could've easily matched but I couldn't be bothered to tell the truth. I was too hung up, thinking of the last night I dropped her off at her house.

She hadn't come right out and told me not to pick her up…could that be called a loophole? But she didn't want me to and I wouldn't ever try to get her to do something she wasn't comfortable with. The deer paused for a fraction of a second, eying the area I was growling in, wondering if they could go back now but I snarled at them and they were gone within a millisecond. _Jeez, scaring the deer? Paul, you need a life._

_Shut it Seth._ I growled back and ran it over in my head again. I thought there was nothing wrong. I thought I might've been making progress. Apparently, I was wrong. And god how I hated being wrong.

I couldn't just stop talking with her. From what I knew about imprint relationships, I'd go insane. Jared was a mess every time Kim took a family vacation and knowing Sophie was so close and I _still_ couldn't talk to her would make me an even bigger mess.

So what to do?

_Sounds to me like she needs space. _Leah quipped, still moody from my apparent 'anti-feminist' comment. _Give it a rest, do you know how annoying it is to have someone panting after you every second of the day?_

_Do you? _I challenged and she cussed me out vibrantly. I had to say, her vocabulary was impressive, to say the least.

_As much as I hate to admit it, _Seth began and I mentally glared at him.

_Don't even insinuate you're on her side Seth or I'll rip you a new one. _I threatened and he shrugged.

_Sorry but Leah's the girl. If she says give take a rest, I dunno, you might want to give it a try. _He suggested. I hated them. All of them. They were insane. In my opinion, they were all going to end up in a funny farm, with the nice young men in the clean white coats give them Valium and other sedatives every hour or so. _Funny Paul _Seth remarked, dryly. _But it doesn't change the fact that you should give the girl some time._

I couldn't stop the tiny voice inside me whining in response to Seth's comment: _But I don't want to…_

_Jesus, are you two years old or a man? _Leah snapped, rolling her eyes. _Give her some damn space! _

_Shut it hag. _I snipped back, half-heartedly. The sun got into the centre point of the sky and Collin, Brady, Jared and Quil joined the collective thread of minds, relieving us. I wandered, aimlessly and angrily and thoughtful and annoyed and found myself at the stretch of forest on the other side of Sophie Miller's house.

I was in love: sue me for the cliché irony!

I thought I could see movement in the top storey, none in the bottom and there was no car except for Sophie's in the driveway. I couldn't be held accountable for one little peak could I? It was sunny (which frankly was astounding) and there wasn't even a cloud to give me partial cover but it was relatively quiet…

_Paul, don't do it. _Jared warned, seeing where my thoughts were heading. Just a quick duck over, just for a second…_Paul…_Jared's voice made me stop and I whined, loudly even though no one was around.

_Why couldn't you be cloudy?_ I begged the sun inside my head._ Just for a second or two. _If anything, it shone brighter. Well wasn't that just fan-friggin'-tastic.

_There isn't enough cover man, you'd be completely visible. _Quil pointed out. I wanted to rip his head off but decided easily that sitting like a Labrador in front of Sophie's house was far more important.

I mulled over what Leah said, safe from her jibes as she phased back to human, for a couple of minutes. Space. Hmm. Interesting in theory but not really in practice. Space from Sophie might just kill me. Where blood thirsty vampires, Leah, Jacob, Quil, Embry, Collin, Seth, Brady...okay let's just say the whole damn pack, hadn't been able to, not seeing Sophie might just finish me off.

But Leah was (as much as I hated to admit it) probably the more educated one on this subject because I tended to date girls for a while before breaking up. Long term, imprinting relationships were beyond me. I tried to picture it for a second or two: Sophie lived her life, driving to school, hanging out with that insane girl, Ella or whatever, laughing, studying, living like she always had before I noticed her.

Then there was me: sitting alone, at home on the weekends because my brain didn't function properly, the pack having eternal bragging rights over me for, well, _eternity_, my Ma worrying about the fact that my sister got out more than I did…yeah, space sounded just _fabulous_.

There was a little movement in the upstairs room and I watched as Sophie appeared, curled up on a window seat, enjoying the sun. My head tipped a little like a puppy's does when it's interested and rested my enormous head on my equally enormous paws.

God she was beautiful. So, so beautiful. But sad, agonizingly sad, you could see it in her eyes even when she smiled. I couldn't help but wonder why that was. I wondered if she'd ever trust me enough to tell me. I wondered if I'd be able to help her because as stunning as she was now, I could only imagine what she would be like when she wasn't held down by the weight she so obviously carried now.

Sophie stretched a little, tilting her head so that her slightly curly silvery blonde hair trickled down her back as she sat, concentrating on the book in her hand. I couldn't read the title from here but she was engrossed with it and I fiddled, wanting to know what had captured her attention so thoroughly.

My eyes dragged to the half-open garage, where the barely visible blue trunk of her car was partially covered with a dirty white sheet. I hated that car. Hated. It. It was the worst piece of machinery in existence. Because it was going to stop me from driving Sophie to school.

I frowned slightly after a moment, if that was possible for a wolf. No, wait, that wasn't the trunk, it was the hood. And the hood…well from here it almost looked like…no, no, I had to be sure. I took a tiny step forward and then another two back.

What was I thinking? I couldn't just skip across the road like a pet dog! I was a freaking wolf! Not even a regular sized one, people would probably think I was a wolf/bear/_elephant_ hybrid or something and then we'd all get the animal patrol riled up and ready to shoot on sight. Which wouldn't be that successful because we were all so wicked fast but with all the new fang threats to the area…it might've been safer to stay at home.

Back to my problem though. I couldn't jump out right now because big-as-a-horse wolves were generally cause for suspicion and Sophie would see anything else the way she was positioned…But suddenly, Sophie shifted a little and her back turned away from me as she faced the inside of her room. I stood, an idea coming to me and I ducked back into the forest for a moment, ignoring the pack and phasing to human before yanking my shorts on, hurriedly.

I glanced back at Sophie but she wasn't watching the forest, still immersed in her book. I checked the road but aside from the usual midday traffic (aka one, maybe two cars) there wasn't anyone around to question the sudden appearance of a shirtless, eighteen year old boy emerging from the woods with no shoes on. I looked again at Sophie before darting across the road and sliding underneath the half-open garage door.

It was built the same as most houses in La Push: square, shelves around the walls, save for the door which was on the left hand side and partially open from what I saw. I had to resist the urge to have a look there as well because, pfft, lets face it: I wouldn't have stopped there and Sophie would most likely scream if she saw me, suddenly wandering around her house. For once, I had the slight suspicion that the old "Sorry, I was looking for the bathroom" line wouldn't work.

I caught the barest glimpse of white and green wallpaper before shaking my head. _Focus _I commanded and slowly made my way to the front of Sophie's car. It was at the back and I was lucky I'd seen anything now that I thought about it. _You're procrastinating…_whined a voice in my head that sounded oddly like Zoe. I shook myself. _Man up Paul, now or never. _Agonizingly, I gripped the sheet and tugged it off.

I stumbled back, shocked and hurt. For once, I didn't want to be right. I begged to be wrong. But of course I wasn't.

There, in the middle of the sky blue hood, were the two dent marks I'd made early this week when I'd been begging for her name. And it was obviously not fixed.

So what did this mean? She'd lied to me to what? Get out of having me driving her? Did she really dislike me that much? I felt disappointment rock through my veins. Imprints weren't meant to be this difficult, I thought, annoyed. Of course, mine would be the one that was hardest. After all, god hated me.

I put the sheet back on in a daze and slithered out from under the garage door quietly. Sophie was still reading her book and for a second, I just stared at her, unabashedly. Beautiful, intelligent, sweet, shy Sophie…the perfect girl. For me at any rate. I might've been biased but all the legends kept saying we were meant to be made for each other. Didn't that insinuate that I was meant to be made for her too? All I could hold on to now was the pack's successful imprints. They'd made it. One day, Sophie and I would make it too. If she was perfect for me, I'd have to show her how perfect I was for her.

At least I still had my determination. But I thought about what Leah had said and sighed as I phased back into a wolf and ran the mere two streets to my house. I'd show Sophie one day. But for now, I'd give her space. All the space she wanted. Every centimetre I could spare. I'd be Spacey McSpaceyton from Spaceville if she wanted. I'd give her as much space as she could possibly need and simply pray that she'd want me back before I died of NSMD: Neglection from Sophie Miller Disorder.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed it but let me make this clear:**

**PAUL IS NOT GIVING UP!**

**This is just the beginning…**

**P.S. I think I should mention the fact that **_**The Book Thief **_**by Markus Zusak is, quite frankly indescribable. I blubbered like a baby at the end and I'm not ashamed of the fact: the book is most DEFINITELY worth reading!**

**Review please!**

**Tress Blues**


	13. Time Unspent

**Hello guys**

**Sorry to say, this is a filler chapter: just to clarify what the hell was going through Sophie's head. It's short and some of the internal conflicts are a little odd but I think it needs to be explained or else the rest of the story won't fit.**

**By the way, I've added links for Sophie, Paul and Sophie's Car on my profile: go have a look and tell me what you think!**

**Tress**

* * *

Chapter 12. Time Unspent

_Sophie_

I found myself at a difficult place. It had been a week and a half (but who was really counting?) since I'd said goodbye to Paul and I hadn't really spoken to him much either. Jacob didn't speak much to me in Math: he said hello, I said hello back and then we worked on the ridiculously difficult maths problem our teacher gave to us. Things were normal, things were quiet. Things were as they should be.

On the one hand, I was proud of myself. _I_ was in the right here. I'd done the right thing by keeping to myself and I'd overcome the obstacle Paul had presented me with. Paul had left me alone, only the barest few smiles and waves here and there. I'd finally made him listen long enough and he was gone. I'd kept my family safe, or what remained of it. I was meant to be happy.

But there was the other hand of course.

The other hand was furious with myself. I couldn't believe what I'd done: essentially, thrown all of Paul's ulterior-free offers of friendship back in his face and spat on them. How could I be so cold hearted? How could I deny myself and Paul a friendship that I could see would make me happy? Would make him happy too? It was selfish of me to think like that though because I knew that although Paul was happy and excited to be my friend now, that enthusiasm would wane and he'd end up regretting the decision to ever have caught me that day.

No one I ever met stayed with me long.

I was tired too. So tired. It was odd like living without the small conversations with Paul had made me weary, exhausted. Which was incredibly stupid considering the fact that I'd lived perfectly well (well, alright, maybe not _perfectly_) without him for years and he'd only really even looked at me a few days ago!

But nonetheless, I did. Erika seemed to notice but chose to say nothing on the topic, instead filling our conversations one-sidedly with little to no response from me. I was obviously insane. Why else would I be acting like this? Like I was…_missing_ him or something? I tried to study, I tried to work, I tried to just adapt like I always had. But it wasn't working. Not this time. My thoughts dragged me reluctantly back to Paul and I…I couldn't stop. Thinking about him that is.

So I found myself at a difficult place; a conundrum without a solution.

Do I make myself happy? Or do I do what I've always done? Adapt and hope for the best?

_Paul_

I was beginning to really, really bug the Pack. It had been a week and a half (but who was really counting?) and there had been no change in the situation between Sophie and me. It hadn't gotten any worse, but it hadn't gotten any better and with this point of stand still, became:

a) irritable,  
b)frustrated,  
c) royally pissed off  
or d) all of the above?  
Take your pick ladies and gentlemen!

See what I've been reduced to?

But it really was how I felt. Like my life was some stupid game for the Powers That Be to mess with.

I ate, slept, patrolled, learned, blah, blah, blah…I just kept my head down, ticked off at the world and snapping at people who tried to talk to me. My Ma, I knew, was starting to worry about me. Just one of the many more things I need to worry about. Great job Paul, great job.

The Pack drew straws to see who was patrolling with me. That's how bad I'd gotten. Embry and Jacob had copped it last time they made fun of me; both of them had at least a dozen scars each until they healed up. Seth's arm almost came off when he tried asking me how Sophie was and then Leah got involved at that point, so needless to say things got messy.

Truth was…I was practically going out of my mind. With worry, with longing, with desperation, with anger, with sadness…it was not fun to say the least. I was just, _just, _making it through the days as it was. And if I didn't talk to Sophie soon, I think I might just have to crawl into a hole and die.

The teachers were astounded at the fact that I didn't talk back unless asked a direct question: it was as if I had answered half their prayers. One half being that I would sit down and be quiet, the other half that I would be polite and respectful. Well tough; they were lucky to be getting the quiet half.

Beyond that, I was moping. This is where the 'bugging of the Pack' comes in. Emily and Sam's kitchen counter has three stools and at this point, the one closest to the wall is always filled by one, sad-and-sorry-for-himself, temperamental werewolf by the name of Paul Beckett.

And Emily could only bake cupcakes for so long.

I was just…tired. Patrol, chores, all the physical stuff that had never made me break a sweat now seemed like my last act before I kicked the bucket. Sam reckons it was because I spent all my brainpower thinking about Sophie and it was beginning to tire me out and for once, I had to agree with him.

Space was starting to suck, seriously hard and I was so, so, _so_ close to breaking. All I could really do right now was to wait for Sophie's decision, I knew that. But it didn't mean I had to like it.

**

* * *

**

Ah, the conflicts of a teenage werewolf. The next chapter gets a bit dark but I must say that I'm catching up: I haven't written in ages because I've been a little depressed about a writing competition I haven't heard back from, and I'm up to Ch.14 now. Two more to go I guess.

**Tress Blues**


	14. Warmth

**Sorry it's taken me a while to update people: apart from being sick with something that was suspiciously like Swine Flu (but thankfully not), I've also been a little depressed about a writing competition I entered. It's not like I didn't think I would win (I was pretty certain I wouldn't even place), I just expected a letter back. Thanks, but no thanks or something like that. But…Nada.**

**So I took a little break and I've been hiding out in the world of fictionpress(dot)com, a branch of FF that deals with original works and as such, I havent been writing as much.**

**Tress Blues.**

* * *

Chapter 13. Warmth

**The humanity I know, watched the warmth blow away  
****So don't let the world bring you down  
****Not everyone here is that fucked up and cold  
****Remember why you came and while you're alive  
****Experience the warmth before you grow old**

**-Incubus, the Warmth**

_Sophie_

A week past.

And then another.

And then another.

March flew by in a blur.

Erika was beginning to worry about me; I could see it when she spoke. I smiled a little, for her sake but it never really reached my eyes. My situation at home, if anything, got worse. The Anderson guy was coming over almost daily and I was getting more and more weary of him. He hadn't tried anything; just looks or words raised my spine though and I spent all my time in my room, away from him.

More than that, Dad was getting sloppier. Not in a sense that he wasn't picking up after himself (he hadn't done that in years) but in that he was hitting me in places that were getting harder to hide. I wore turtlenecks mostly now; to cover up the finger marks on my neck and arms. It was a good thing my Dad got the bills paid because I needed the fridge's ice machine more than ever.

I remember walking home that day. The day before I started…well, I guess you could say it was the day before I started _living_. I walked through the front door and instantly realised that my father was home but no Anderson. As much as I detested the man, he distracted my father and I could usually escape with only a few scratches. But when he was alone, there was nothing to distract his rage from me and I very carefully made my way through foyer.

When I reached the stairs however, Dad's hand fell on my shoulder and I cried out as I went flying backwards to the floor. My head made a sickening crack on the floorboards and I saw stars for a few seconds. But my attention was brought back the pain. My ribs felt like they were going to shatter as my father's boot struck them over and over.

I couldn't make out what he was saying over my ragged breathing; it was all an angry, drunken blur of tears as his hand wrapped around my arm and heaved me to my feet only to be knocked back down with the pain flooding across my face.

His fingers closed around my throat and my head went smashing against the ground once, twice, three times until I felt blood start to trickle.

My oxygen supply was cutting off and I thrashed instinctively. _Breathe Sophie, Breathe, don't stop fighting, breathe…_As stupid as it sounded, the voice reminded me oddly of Paul and I tried to pull his hands from around my throat. It'd never gotten to this point, I never thought it would ever go this far.

_He was drunk, _said a voice that sounded more like me. _He's drunk and he doesn't know what he's doing…_

My lungs screamed at me and I managed to free one of my legs just as the black dots appeared on my vision. I jerked my knee upwards and as hard as I could into his stomach and he rolled off me, groaning as my throat heaved air gratefully.

I didn't waste time after that, scrambling away from him and walking on trembling legs up the stairs. I heard him try to come after me still yelling but there was another thump and I knew he'd tilted back too far and ended up falling off the staircase.

I closed my door and heaved a lungful of air. My hands were trembling as I felt the back of my head. There was a small trickle of blood matting my hair and I ran my hands through it, shocked. _He was drunk, _I consoled myself, repetitively. _He didn't know... _But the words sounded false to my own ears and my eyes stung with tears as I leaned against the door and curled up, my arms crossed around my bruised ribs.

The next morning, I woke up so early it was just getting light and felt…dizzy. My brain felt scrambled as I moved and the oddest sensation of knives stabbed at my sides. I wiggled around the bed, propping myself up on the pillows and looked around, bewildered. It was my room, it was my door, it was my window…but it seemed oddly different. I blinked and hissed in pain. Something wasn't right. Carefully, I hopped out of bed and tiptoed on clumsy wobbly, feet to the bathroom.

I needed a shower, I thought distantly. My eyes drifted open and closed and I pressed my hand to my head, suddenly queasy. I was sleepy too but I turned on the water and shed my pyjamas, feeling the dried blood in my hair when I took off my shirt. I drew my fingers back and there was red dust on the tips.

Cringing, I showered, rinsing away the aches and pains, checking myself over. My ribs were black and purple but they seemed to have remained in place during last night. The water turned red as I washed out the blood and I felt where my head had collided with the floor. My head felt like it was spinning as I dried off and looked in the mirror.

I staggered back, amazed and disgusted. The girl in the mirror had violent purple bruises on her arms and neck and her cheek was streaked with a single line of dusty blue. How was I going to cover this? I wondered, carefully searching for the bandages in the cupboard behind the mirror, if anything so I didn't have to look at myself.

I found them and wrapped it around my ribs, rubbing cream over the parts that were painful. My face was…unworkable though. I couldn't go out like this. People would see and ask and question it. I pulled on a pair of faded green baggy sweat pants and a brown long sleeved shirt and tiptoed downstairs.

But dad wasn't down there. I frowned, looking around the house before coming to garage. His car was gone, only the blue Mercedes was left. I couldn't look at it much longer so I turned around and headed back inside. It wasn't like my father to leave for work this early.

I shook my head and picked up a tea towel from the cupboard before walking to the kitchen. I poured ice into my hands and jerkily stuffed it into the towel before pressing it to my cheek. "Oww…" I whined to myself and sat on the stool in front of the kitchen counter, trying to be careful. I couldn't go to school like this.

My head was killing me by the time I was ready to switch to warm when the doorbell rang and I froze up. No one ever rang the doorbell around here. I barely remembered what it sounded like. The mailman delivered the paper in our letterbox, we didn't get visitors, if either my father or myself were home, we simply walked in…we did not ring the doorbell.

I swallowed my fear and put the towel down on the counter. _Who could it be? Anderson? Don't let him in then Sophie, tell him that you're busy. _Self-preservation nagged me and I brushed my hair over my right eye before slightly opening my door. My eyes widened and I think my jaw might've dropped.

"_Paul?_"

He grinned sheepishly and I took a second to look him over. He looked just as gorgeous as ever but there were some heavy-duty bags beneath his eyes and his face had lost some of its colour. I felt my face twitch into a frown of concern before I smoothed it out. I shouldn't care. I shouldn't, I shouldn't, I shouldn't. It was just too damn bad that I did. Care I mean. A lot.

"Hey Sophie." He said, sounding on edge. I made sure that the door covered the half of my face with the blue as I smiled at him.

"Hi. Umm, not that it isn't great to see you-" _which it was, it so, so, was- _"But can I ask what you're doing here?" I said, tentatively. Paul shrugged and I had to admire him for a moment. Even as tired as he looked, he was still possibly one of the most handsome, gorgeous men in La Push.

"Just wanted to see if you needed a lift. I saw your car was still in the driveway." He explained and I paled slightly. Did he know? Did he know about my lie? Was he angry? Was he hurt?

If he was, he didn't look it. Part of me was relieved that he hadn't been offended enough to never come back, the other rapidly shrinking part was disappointed that he hadn't taken offence and left me alone.

"Umm, I'm not actually going to school today." I said, softly, looking away from the absolute god at my doorway. What the hell was wrong with me? Paul looked confused, I noticed out of the corner of my eye and was about to ask why when a piece of hair fell in front of my face and began my day.

Normally, this isn't such an occurrence. I mean, it's _hair_. But on this occasion it wasn't so much my hair as it was, what it drew attention to. I brushed it back automatically and I heard Paul have a sudden intake of breath. I looked up at him confused and staggered back a little. His face was…beyond words. Fury, rage, wrath…all of it didn't do justice to the look of pure anger on Paul's face.

"What's wrong?" I asked, barely getting the words out from behind my fumbling teeth. I was frightened. This was the first time I'd ever been truly, absolutely afraid of Paul and I hated it, abruptly and without warning. I realised quickly enough that he wasn't glaring at me per se…just at my neck which was suddenly uncovered by my hair.

_No! Not after everything, it can't be ruined NOW! _My eyes widened and I rushed to cover it up, hoping he'd buy my latest excuse of…well, how do you explain well defined purple finger marks around your _neck_? "Paul it's not-" I started to explain.

But suddenly Paul wasn't there, he'd turned and raced off to the woods without a single word. I looked after him in confusion as a light grey mist started to fall but I didn't go inside. My head was trying to come up with a reason for his inexplicable behaviour and it was failing miserably.

Paul's white mustang was still in my driveway and for a second I briefly considered whether I should wait inside, so Paul couldn't avoid my questions. I shut that thought down quickly enough just thinking about sitting in a small confined space that was filled with the smell of oaks and sea salt I commonly connected to Paul.

I watched the woods, waiting for some sign of him but it was quiet as the rain continued to fall in light, tapping sheets. I felt worried for him: he hadn't taken a jacket, he probably didn't have his phone on him and it was getting chillier as the rain kept falling. I bounced on my toes, the worry starting to eat away before I remembered the warm compress I had in the microwave.

I hesitated though; what if I should go for a second and he came back? What if I missed him and he drove off to tell someone? I knew what the real reason I hesitated was though: What if I left and he never came back again? Quickly I walked to the microwave, picked up the damp, warm towel, and pressed it to my cheek.

My body wracked with shivers from the temperature change and I walked back to the door to look again. I bounced on my toes again, a nervous habit.

What kind of idiot goes into the forest without a cell and without a jacket when it's starting to _bucket_ down. The rain was getting louder and louder and I inched the door closed a little to stop it from coming into the house. It'd been at least ten minutes…he wasn't coming out…

I bit my lip and put the towel down on the side table. Paul didn't seem like the kind of person to get lost easily but the worry was beginning to get to me…my head span sickeningly and suddenly I had made up my mind. I yanked on my boots and grabbed a raincoat and scarf before heading out into the rain.

Stumbling down the driveway, a startled giggle fell from my lips as the trees swirled like an artist mixing paints. My face became wet and my hair turn into long blonde pieces of seaweed…I walked across the road, right before a car came blaring past and I span around, watching as two of them went flying past. _Something's wrong…_I thought to myself but suddenly my head did another spin and I decided it didn't matter.

The trees blurred in and out of focus as I walked and quickly, I forgot what exactly I was looking for and the rain was making everything slippery. I walked further on though, knowing that I had to keep moving for some unknown reason…

My eyes traced patterns in the trees and my fingers skimmed over the moss, all the lovely green moss. Another spinning of the head…I fell to the ground and my neck, wrapped with the scarf, hit a rather large root sticking out of the ground.

The world rocked on its hinges, round and round as I rolled. My jacket was covered in mud and my entire body felt like it was on a rollercoaster…I hadn't been on one in so long…since I was too little to tackle the big ones…the memories swirled and danced like the leaves above me.

The back of my head throbbed and my hands twitched and trembled. Rain turned my skin cold and I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck in a daze. It didn't work…why was that? Why wasn't I warm? All I wanted was to be warm. Warm like Paul.

My legs started twitching too and my eyes felt so heavy. _Just a little nap,_ I thought groggily. _Just one little sleep…_

"Sophie? What, what are you doing out here?" came a panicked voice. I think I smiled. I might not have. My skin was going numb…but I could recognise the voice.

"Paul…" I mumbled, the rain cracking down on my skin.

I didn't open my eyes…the rain was too cold. Warm, warm, warm…where was that warm? My head was throbbing and it hurt so bad. I just wanted to be warm.

Suddenly the slippery, soft mud wasn't under me anymore, it had been replaced by something long and strong and warm. My feet were lifted; it felt like I was flying.

I sighed, my head tipping back. Warm, warm, warm…"Hey, hey, Sophie, don't go to sleep, come on Sophie, wake up." Paul said. Maybe in a little while. My head was aching, spinning, and hurting. My hands were twitching again.

"What's with your temperature?" I mumbled, my words slurring more and more. I was curious and my face was frowning. Paul chuckled, tensely, fakely. I didn't like it.

"Hey, you stay awake, I'll tell you. Kay?"

"Tell me…"

"It's from being dropped in a vat of toxic waste as a child. Changes my body temp like crazy." He said and I smiled a little bit, sardonically.

"Not true, waste messes with D…NA…doesn't affect temperature…" I slurred. Why was I talking again? My mouth closed and I sighed, my head spinning again like a top.

Something touched the back of my head and I winced when it met the hurting part. _Stop that, _I wanted to say, _it hurts…_but I couldn't get my mouth to form the letters. "_Shit!_"

"Bad word." I giggled drowsily but then the hands were back, probing the back of my head. _Go away…_

"Sophie, wake up, Sophie, you've got a concussion, you can't go to sleep on me alright, I need you awake, come on, awake!" such a loud voice, I thought. So loud and warm…the rain kept beating on my face, little pinpricks of ice. I hadn't opened my eyes but suddenly I realised we were moving and I felt sick.

_I don't want to stay awake…_

"Sophie, don't you dare go to sleep alright? We'll get you to the hospital." Mechanical sounds. I stopped moving. The warmth was replaced with cold leather. I whimpered. Why couldn't I sleep again?

"Sleep…" I mumbled but it came out as mush. We were moving again, from what I could tell, really friggin fast!

"No Sophie, no sleep. Stay awake okay?"

"Don't wanna…"

"Sophie no, don't." Warmth, lovely soothing, calming, loving warmth…I could almost see warmth now as it danced on the back of my eyelids. Sleep was warm.

"Night, night…" I sighed. I'd follow the warm and leave behind the cold. Leave it all behind…

"Sophie! No, come on, we're almost there, stay awake hon, stay awake," Paul sounded afraid or worried. I wish I could've shown him the warmth. He wouldn't be afraid then.

A blazingly hot hand on my freezing cheek. A soft murmur. The squeak of leather seats. "Sophie I need you to open your eyes." He sounded calmer now. My eyelids twitched in response. "Come on Sophie, come on."

Just for a second, my eyes flew open and I caught the briefest flash of Paul, raindrops on in his hair and on his eyelashes, his hand on my face and the most beautiful, foreign look of concern on his face before my eyes rolled back into my head and I sank into the nice, warm blackness.

* * *

Okay, so you all hate me. I hate me actually, I mean…

**__****I gave her a concussion****! **

**I had a friend at my old school that fell back and hit her head on a rock and got a concussion and she said she felt queasy and nonsensical and pretty much all over the place afterwards. I hope I got it right, if not…well it's fictional for a reason.**

**Read and review, they're my lifelines to this site,**

**Tress Blues**


	15. Cold

**PLEASE READ: **

**I feel like such a bad writer to you guys right now. I'm going through a little bit of a depression. Not your average writer's block, this little black cloud keeps popping over my head each time I try and get something down and it's driving me insane.**

**Right now, I'm hiding out in Mibba and fiction press and just tentatively trying to submerge myself into writing again. It's going to take a while but I had to add this last chapter (the last of my stash actually) before I take my break. Sorry to all my loyal and wonderful reviewers.**

**Tress Blues**

* * *

Chapter 14. Cold

**So cold, this woman of waiting,  
So cold, this lady that hides,  
Quiet and still,  
On her snow-covered hill,  
She waits, with hard, troubled eyes  
**

_Paul_

I wasn't sure what to expect when I pulled up at Sophie's house that day. I didn't think she was just going to magically start talking to me but I had to do something. It'd been weeks. _Weeks_. This whole 'space' thing really, _really_ wasn't working out.

I walked up to her door and saw a tiny, rusty looking doorbell on the side. _Might as well be polite as possible…_I thought, pressing it. She opened the door, half of it obscuring her lovely face and her beautiful blue eyes widened in shock. Her jaw dropped a little.

"_Paul?!_"

I tried to smile like I usually did but I think she could see embarrassment. Here I was, turning up at her house with no warning at all and expecting what? Jeez Paul, you didn't think this one over did you? "Hey Sophie."

"Hi. Umm, not that it isn't great to see you but can I ask what you're doing here?" she asked, hesitantly. I shrugged a little and pointed to her garage.

"Just wanted to see if you needed a lift. I saw your car was still in the driveway." I explained. Why did she look so nervous? I wondered. I hadn't made her uncomfortable had I?

"Umm, I'm not actually going to school today." Sophie replied, quietly. I frowned; it didn't seem like Sophie to miss a class of school for anything. She wasn't sick was she? Or hurt? Or-

A piece of silvery blonde hair fell in her face and she brushed it back automatically.

I gasped and Sophie looked confused. "What's wrong?"

Wrong.

_Wrong?! _

Everything was wrong! The whole damn world was wrong because as the blonde hair fell behind her shoulder I could see four very deliberate, very defined finger marks on her neck.

Someone had tried to _strangle_ her. Someone had tried to hurt her. Someone _had_ hurt her, for Christ's sakes! Hurt _Sophie_._ My_ Sophie.

_**HOW. DARE. THEY?!**_

Anger like I'd never felt, fury burned inside my stomach. I wanted to _kill_ someone. I _needed_ to kill someone. I wanted hunt whoever had done this and make them pay. They'd be _begging_ for death by the time I was through with them.

I trembled, I shivered, I blurred and the only image that got through my blindingly white rage was Emily's distorted face, covered with scars…only it wasn't Emily, but Sophie.

"Paul it's not-" her voice flitted away from my ears as I took off, leaping into the forest and phasing immediately. My shoes, shirt, shorts…all of it turned to shreds but I had yet to really give a flying fuck about clothing.

_Paul, what's wrong? _Sam, Leah, Embry and Quil were on the morning patrol (Embry and Quil having to get special permission from their parents to skip school) and they were…astounded with the amount of rage I had. All I could see was those four perfectly defined purple marks on Sophie's soft, white neck.

The rest of them had their hackles raised immediately. _What the fu-_

_That is messed up!_

_Who did that?!_

_Paul, calm down. _Sam's alpha voice didn't work on me though. I shredded tree after tree, none of them really satisfying me. Only one thing would actually: killing whoever hurt Sophie. _Paul! __Calm down__._

_I don't know Sam, _Quil started, thinking over the image I kept replaying over and over in my head. It made my stomach churn and I sped off, deeper into the woods. I didn't have an aim, I just needed to be far enough away from Sophie that I didn't hurt her. _He has a point, I mean…damn that is _effed_ up._

In his head, Quil was comparing my actions to what he would do if it was Claire. I growled, long and fierce and all wildlife in the area disappeared. My thoughts weren't corresponding with words anymore. Just hatred. Just pain. Just murder and revenge.

_Paul, you can't go killing people. We protect everyone that lives here. _Sam told me while Leah snorted.

_You wouldn't be thinking that if it were Emily, Sam admit it. _She snapped. Sam growled, instinctively.

_Cut it out, all of you. _He snarled. _Paul, calm yourself down and Embry, go make sure he doesn't hurt anyone. _

I didn't hear any of his orders. I was too busy thinking of the many ways I could kill whoever hurt Sophie. Embry whined but ran to where I was tearing up the trees and vegetation in a rage and ducked as I swiped at the ground next to him. It looked like a bomb had gone off.

_Paul, I know you're pissed-_

_Pissed. Doesn't. __**Cover it**__. _My thoughts were disjointed little snarls of words like I was panting.

_Well just calm down and talk or something because people are gonna start wondering where the woods have gone! _I shuddered, my claws digging up the soil. I tried to stop my vicious attack on a maple sapling. _Okay, now start at the beginning._

_Gave up giving her space. Went to talk to her. She opened the door and-_

The image popped back into my head and I scrapped the sapling with one blow. Embry came calmly into the clearing I had made. _Paul, you've got to calm down. How are you ever going to talk to her again if you don't? _he thought, hesitantly.

I paced the clearing, snarling and snapping. I couldn't get rid of the rage. It was eating away at me. I couldn't stop it. _Don't. Have. Clothes._

Embry looked amused for the first time. _Now there's a shocker. _I snapped at his heels and he whined. _Hey, cut it out, I'm trying to help! _

He disappeared for a few minutes and it took everything I had, _every_ little drop of my already limited self-control, not to race out of here while my babysitter wasn't looking. Embry returned not two minutes later, a shirt, pair of shorts and shoes in his mouth. He dropped them and shook the mud off his fur. _Now can you phase back?_

_Don't. Know. _The rage was like quick sand: every attempt I made to get out just suck me further in.

_Try you miserable oaf, how else are you gonna talk to her? Bark Morse code? _I growled at him and his light mood broke, revealing his inner turmoil. He wanted to help. He hated people getting hurt though. He was on orders. He couldn't break orders.

I swallowed everything down. I thought of Sophie, ignoring the image and thought of how wide her eyes were when she saw my face. I hadn't seen it before but she looked…_terrified_. She'd been afraid of me. Afraid of the one person who would protect her. That wasn't right. I had to change that.

The rage started fading, not gone but into a tight more manageable ball in my chest and I phased back to human form before it came back. Tugging on the clothes, I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. I turned to Embry. "I have to go back." I told him, my voice ragged.

Embry tilted his head and scrutinized me for a second. "I won't hurt anyone." I promised, vaguely and he nodded, letting me go. _Yet. _I added in my head, turning back to Sophie's house with the ball of rage slamming around in my insides like a pinball machine.

I was halfway up the path when I smelt something…_odd_. It smelled like rain and moss and trees, the usual La Push smells but then there was…blood? I inhaled again. Yes, rain, moss, trees, blood, mud- But there was also…vanilla?...and- and those purple flowers I forgot the name of…

Shit. _Shit. _The rage dissipated as I stepped past the trees and saw the worst image my mind could possibly have the misfortune to see. Sophie was sprawled on the ground, her arms and legs twitching every so often and her hair was gleaming almost bone white with the rain, a small trail of blood and mud trickling away from her head. "Sophie? What, what are you doing out here?"

I ran, all anger forgotten and knelt beside her, wondering what had possessed her to come out into the forest and lie down in the dirt. "Paul…" she mumbled, her pale, almost white lips twitching upward at the corners. Within a second, I scooped her up into my arms and her head fell back, all the wet silvery curls weighing it down. "Hey, hey, Sophie, don't go to sleep, come on Sophie, wake up." I said, patting down her arms for broken bones.

"What's with your temperature?" she whispered, her eyes still not open. _Keep her awake Paul, keep her talking…_I just wished she'd chosen something else to talk about.

"Hey, you stay awake, I'll tell you. Kay?" I bargained, uneasily.

"Tell me…" she demanded, weakly.

"It's from being dropped in a vat of toxic waste as a child. Changes my body temp like crazy." I invented, wildly, trying to keep her awake as I checked for wounds. Her lips slipped into a dry smile.

"Not true, waste messes with D…NA…doesn't affect temperature…" Even with a concussion, she had the brain of a rocket scientist. Typical.

I moved to her head, touching her neck as lightly as I could and her back and then the back of her head. I pulled my fingers away immediately and almost vomited at the sight of her blood. "_Shit!_"

"Bad word." Sophie giggled and I started jogging as fast as I could without jostling her up the forest bank to civilization.

When I was fifteen, during my 'rebellious' phase, I had to go to the hospital a lot. Like, _a lot._ Name a bone and I've probably broken it but the one time I hit my head badly, the doctors kept saying I was lucky I hadn't caused something called _intracranial haemorrhaging_.

Basically, it was when you hit your head too hard and ended up bleeding into your skull. Sophie's didn't look too bad, probably just a concussion but it could turn into something real bad, real soon if she didn't get to a doctor.

"Sophie, wake up, Sophie, you've got a concussion, you can't go to sleep on me alright, I need you awake, come on, awake!" I told her, carrying her up and onto the road. My car still had the keys in the engine and I thanked everyone I could think of for the fact. Sophie's eyelids flickered and stilled and I felt fear clutch my stomach.

"Sophie, don't you dare go to sleep alright? We'll get you to the hospital." I snapped, placing her carefully in the front seat and sliding into the drivers place. I tore down the street as fast as I could, keeping an eye on Sophie as I did. _Focus Beckett, you don't want to have a car accident while you drive her to the hospital._

"Sleep…" said a mumbling voice and I glanced back at Sophie. _Don't go to sleep Sophie, don't go to sleep…_I prayed in my head.

"No Sophie, no sleep. Stay awake okay?"

"Don't wanna…"

"Sophie no, don't." We were almost there: the La Push hospital was small but equipped enough to deal with her…I hoped.

"Night, night…" she sighed, sounding calmer than I felt.

"Sophie! No, come on, we're almost there, stay awake hon, stay awake!" I pleaded as we pulled into the car park. She couldn't close her eyes; sleep was banned until further notice.

I couldn't lose her, not now, not ever…I put my hand on her soft, alabaster white cheek. It was like touching the inside of a freezer and had it not been for her slow heartbeat, anyone would've thought her a vampire.

"Sophie I need you to open your eyes." I whispered, braking and looking straight at her. She was covered in mud and drenched with rain but her eyelids twitched. "Come on Sophie, come on."

Her face was heartbreakingly beautiful and calm; she looked like she'd been carved from marble by an angel. But she was so cold. Frozen in a state of non-existence. I just needed to see her eyes; the beautiful blue that made her alive again, that would make her alive again.

Her eyes fluttered opened and she stared amazed at me before they rolled back in her head and she closed them again. I was out and around to the passenger's side of the car in two seconds flat, piling her limp body into my arms and carrying her into the hospital.

I couldn't lose her.

Not Now.

Not Ever.

---

"And how are you related to Miss Miller?" asked the nurse. She was about fifty and reminded me vaguely of the annoying old woman from down the street, the one that yelled when you stepped on her lawn. I glared at her, willing her to tell me something about Sophie.

"I'm a friend." I gritted out. She scribbled it down and looked back up at me, decisively.

"And you found Miss Miller, correct?" she asked, peevishly. I wondered how much trouble I'd get in for tossing her. Hmm…probably lots. Still…it'd be worth it though.

"Yes. She was in the forest. Can I see her now?" I snapped, angrily. She looked affronted.

"Young man, do not take that tone with me!" she ordered and seeming as she was about a million feet smaller than me, the intimidation was lost. I was about to retort when a quiet voice interrupted.

"Shelley, that will be quite enough." Said a doctor as he exited the room Nurse Evil had been barring me from. She glared at me once before turning and marching away like the snobby cow she was. "You're the Mr Beckett that's been trying to get into Miss Miller's room correct?" he asked and I wondered how much of an ordeal he saw my 'attempts' as.

I nodded though because I didn't immediately hate his guts. Promising. He sighed. "I'm Doctor Flagstaff. Your friend has sustained bruising, broken ribs, a serious concussion and mild hypothermia." He said, looking at a clipboard. "Can you tell me why she was out in the woods?" he asked. I rolled my eyes but bit my tongue. _Don't be mean to the nice doctor…_

"I don't know. That's what I keep telling everyone. I came to see if Sophie needed a lift to school and I found her out in the woods in the rain. Now. _Is she going. To be. Okay?_" I asked, slowly and sternly. Flagstaff sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Yes. We had to act fast to release the pressure and stitch up the wound but yes, on that front she's perfectly fine. She might have a few post concussion symptoms but it's only natural. The hypothermia is our main concern now. We're trying to bring her temperature up to a safe point but it's difficult with the weather circumstances." I grimaced looking out the window. It was beginning to look like a thunderstorm.

"Alright. Now can I see her?" I asked, annunciating each word. The doctor smiled grimly and indicated the room.

"She's still slightly out of it and you'd do well not to upset her. As long as her temperature continues to rise like this, she should be fine to take home in a few days or so, assuming she goes easy on the ribs." A few days would not sit well with Sophie, I thought as I walked to the room, throwing a casually smug look to Nurse Shelley as I went. Half afraid of what I might see, I peeked furtively before I entered, my breath catching in my throat.

Sophie looked like…

"Death warmed over huh?" she croaked from her bed. I could only nod, blankly. Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent, although her lips and cheeks were getting some colour back in them. I sat in the chair beside her and just stared at what had become of her.

I felt shame. I shouldn't have let her get a single scratch and here she was in _hospital_. What kind of a werewolf was I? She shifted uncomfortably under my gaze but I couldn't help it. It was a compulsion.

"Thankyou." She whispered after a while, not meeting my eyes. I frowned.

"For what?" she had nothing to thank me for. She should've been cussing me out for the world to hear.

"For saving my life." Sophie whispered, her voice sounding like gravel. I smiled.

"All in a day's work I s'pose." I knew we were deliberately dancing around the topic but I wouldn't bring it up until she did. I needed her to comfortable enough to tell me without pressure. "So what were you doing out in the forest?" I asked, slight curiosity getting into my voice.

Sophie groaned and I was at her side in a second. "What? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

She smiled dryly at me. "No, I'm fine." She assured me and I sat back down, embarrassed. Way to go Paul, way to go. "You just asked me the question everyone else keeps asking." She slumped, her hands clenched and her eyes rolled.

I smiled a little at the theatricalness of her movement. "And what did you say then?"

She flushed and I felt a little spark run through my fingertips, wanting to drag them over her soft skin…"It seemed like a good idea at the time." She said, softly.

I laughed, glad for the excuse and she shook her head in embarrassment. "Are you serious? Sophie it looked like a storm was about to hit! How is that a good idea?"

She glared at me. "Hello? Concussion! I can't be held liable for what I did!" she pointed out and I stopped laughing immediately. Did that mean…

"Sophie, I thought you got your concussion when you fell. Not before you walked out in the rain." I said, quietly, staring at her. Her face went blank and I cussed internally.

"That's what I meant Paul." She said in a monotone. I ran a hand over my face. We'd never get anywhere with that face.

"So are you going to bring it up or am I?" I asked after a few minutes of silence. Sophie looked away, out to the window. The tree next to it bashed its leaves against the glass violently. "Sophie-" I started. The rage was coming back, inch by inch.

"I never really liked the rain much." She interrupted, staring outside. I rolled my eyes at her subject change.

"You can't pretend like nothing happened." I tried to point out but she cut me off.

"It's just…not nice you know? I don't know why we moved here. My mom used to hate the rain as much as I do. I think it was because it was so different." She babbled on. I let out a sigh of frustration. "Different was good. It made it easier."

"What are you talking about Sophie?" I asked, running my hand through my hair. It was still wet from outside and I shook myself off like a dog to get rid of it. Well wasn't that ironic? "Made what easier?"

"To forget." Sophie replied, simply. My interest peaked and I slid closer to her. She stared blankly off into space for a moment, not really seeing anything.

"Forget what Sophie?" I asked, hesitantly. She looked at me as if I was being thick.

"Mattie." She answered, shrugging in a duh manner. My frown deepened and I leaned closer. This was unlike Sophie; usually I had to beg for information but now she was suddenly giving it up like it was nothing. I wondered if it was due to her concussion…the one that apparently was given to her at the same time as the strangulation marks. I shivered, burning rage sweeping down my neck.

"Sophie, who is Mattie?" I asked, quietly. Was it fair to use her momentary behaviour change to my advantage? I wondered. Whose to say it wasn't all gibberish anyway? She smiled at me sadly as if I should know by now.

"Mattie's my brother, of course."

* * *

**Now, I feel like such a bitch. Sorry for leaving such a hanger. It gets better…I think.**


	16. Little Old Me

**So. Not Back entirely but trying. Struggling along at least. Hope you enjoy this chapter, it's a little short but now that I think about it, the next two are pretty long anyways. **

**Enjoy**

**Tress Blues**

Chapter 14. Little Old Me

_Sophie_

"Paul. You're fussing again." I told him, smiling. He pouted, adorably.

"Men don't fuss." He replied. I rolled my eyes.

"Well you're the exception to the rule." I retorted, pulling on my jacket. I'd asked Erika to go to my house and pick up a pair of jeans, a shirt and a jacket for me to wear home. It was dangerous because Erika was never known for her self-control and I was worried about her looking around but I just couldn't have Paul snooping around my house. It made my stomach learn all sorts of odd new acrobatic tricks.

I couldn't explain how Paul and I were acting. We had sort of just fallen into place. After I'd woken up at the hospital and a confusing, unrecallable blur of conversation, Paul had called the school and told them that we weren't going to be in for a while (which I'd rolled my eyes at, asking him why **he** should get off school because of _my_ concussion) and tried calling my house although no one was home. It didn't worry me too much; my father never answered the phone and probably wouldn't give a damn that I was in hospital.

Today was the day I left and Paul was driving me back to my house. It'd only been a few normally average days in reality but in my head, they'd been so quick, like a blink of the eyes. I couldn't help it, I couldn't be blamed, I tried telling myself. Paul saved my life. And the only thing he wanted from me was friendship. How could I really refuse?

I was surprisingly convincing.

The truth of the matter was that I was drowning. Drowning in pleasure because I was slipping back into those few short days where Paul had given me lifts and I'd laughed once or twice…the days that had given me dangerous hope. It felt like I was cheating: making small little gaps in my once iron bound contract with myself to let me be happy for a while.

I was almost sad to be leaving the hospital; I wondered, idly if things would be different when I did. The days here had been filled mainly with talking. Just talking. And I don't think I'd ever opened up as much as I had these days.

Paul had told me about his little sister Zoe, his mother, both of whom he spoke about with a surprising tenderness. His friends sparked a little bit of fire in the back of his eyes; challenging and loyal and fierce and fun. When I finally exhausted questions about him, he turned it back on me, asking me about my life.

Of course my volunteered information was substantially more thin that his own. I did talk a little about Erika and schoolwork, the few movies I'd seen, the many books I'd read. Paul was less than pleased when he found out how little I knew about music.

"I just don't understand how you survive Soph, I really don't." he had said, shaking his head, wide eyed. I'd blushed a little, less about his comment and more about the nickname he'd taken to giving me. I didn't mind it, in fact, I found myself liking it more and more.

"I like to better my mind rather than blow my brains out, is that such a crime?" I'd countered, trying to redeem myself. He gasped, choking on the soda I had gotten, compliments of my father's previous health insurance. He probably wouldn't notice when I got back; he usually just paid the bills and paid them quick, never looking at what he was handing over.

Which brought us to the topic I was most reluctant to speak about. "My dad and I…we just co exist. There's not really much to say on that front." I remember telling him. He'd just stared pointedly at my neck, as if daring me to not tell him who'd done it. He wasn't exactly pointing fingers at that point though; Paul hadn't really figured it out yet and if I had my way, he never would.

My neck had been bruised when I fell; it was one of the reasons none of the doctors asked me much about it. My brain had been a tad scrambled but no serious injury and I was glad. It would've been difficult and painful to hide. My concussion was healed up now, my ribs and bruises, everyone assumed were simply from my trip into the woods.

Only Paul knew.

"Did you know that over ten percent of accidental deaths are in a hospital?" Paul asked, by way of explanation. I sighed.

"For the last time, I'm not going to die in a place where a doctor is a metre away." I replied, calmly. I hated to admit it but I was enjoying being Paul's friend. I shouldn't because it made it much too hard to give up but I was quickly finding I didn't want to. Paul shrugged, pointedly staring the wheelchair in the corner. I frowned at him. "No way. I am perfectly fine walking." I said, beating him to it.

My legs were a bit sore and if I jostled my ribs they felt aching but I was fundamentally alright. And I was not going home, in a _wheelchair_.

"Sophie, please, you haven't even thought about it-"

"There's nothing to think about. I'm fine. Really." I stressed, hiding a smile. He was just too cute when he fussed. Almost as if he could read my thoughts, Paul glared at me.

"I am not fussing!"

"Of course not." I stood up from my bed and walked to the door, Paul eying my movements, worriedly. I sighed, smiling. "See? _Fine_."

He didn't look convinced but as I checked out and thanked the doctors, he kept silent. I thought I saw his hand twitch once or twice but I couldn't be sure.

We walked in silence to his car (the same one he'd driven me to the hospital in and hadn't touched since I'd been there, mainly because he hadn't left my room for three days except for food) and I slid in, trying not to bump my ribs too much. It wasn't an odd thing to be quiet with Paul nowadays; most of the time spent in the hospital was silence but this was different. Those quiet times were comfortable, easy; this one was almost painfully awkward.

"Do you reckon you're Dad's home yet?" Paul asked after a moment. I paused, carefully think each word over in my head. To divert questions I'd told everyone that my dad was away on a trip with friends, which was why he didn't answer the phone. Truthfully, I wasn't worried. It wasn't like my father to waste time with meagre things as his daughter's well being.

I nodded. "Possibly. I don't remember the date he gave me." Paul's hands gripped the steering wheel as we turned onto my street.

"So if he's not there…" he pressed, looking forwards. The car was slowing down to a crawl and I smiled. It looked like he didn't want to end our time any more than I did.

I shrugged though. "I'll live. I'm not two."

Paul finally turned to look at me. Recently, I've noticed that when Paul looks at me, I feel completely naked. Not in a literal way but in that I-see-your-soul kind of way. It's like, I can't even begin hiding from him because all he has to do is look at me and I'm done for. A goner. Completely and utterly ruined. "So it's just going to be little old you, in that big old house with no one around?" he clarified, his face disapproving. I bristled slightly.

I could take perfect care of myself, I thought, irritated. Deeper down, in a part of my stomach, I was kind of flattered. He was worrying about me. I'd never had a boy worry over me before; it was odd in an exhilarating way.

"I'll be fine." I reassured him as he pulled up to my house. There was a parcel at the front door, probably all my homework from the last few days that Erika had reluctantly collected ("What is the point of having a brain injury, if you don't get to skip homework?" She'd moaned over the phone when I'd asked).

"Sophie do you realise how incredibly breakable you look?" he asked, still disapproving. I rolled my eyes. Erika told me I should eat more because I looked unhealthily thin. I used to reply inside my head, that I ate what I had and didn't ask for more because it leads to trouble.

"I'm stronger than I look." I murmured, opening my door and stepping out. I could see Paul's head thunk against the steering wheel for a second before he appeared beside me, helping me up the driveway. "For the last time, I am fine Beckett! Relax!" I commanded, my cheeks flushing as I reached under the doormat and grabbed the key.

Our conversation was coming to a reluctant end and as much as I wanted to stretch it out into my house, that would mean inviting Paul inside and I didn't know if my father was home and even if he wasn't, I didn't want Paul seeing the mess of beer cans and rubbish that it had decayed into. I smiled at him as the door opened. Paul raised an eyebrow, still looking calculating. "If you ask me how I feel one more time, I'll throttle you." I threatened, jokingly.

Paul's other eyebrow rose to meet the first. "Soph, I'm at least two feet taller than you. You'd have a hard time reaching my neck let alone strangle me." He pointed out. I purposely stood up on my toes, which did little before I sighed.

"Well damn." I muttered and he chuckled. The silence started to turn awkward again. "Thankyou Paul. It has been an oddly fun few days. I guess I'll see you at school…" I trailed off, not really meeting his eyes. I didn't want these days to end. People often think hospitals are awful places of pain and death but I wanted nothing more than to break my leg and steal a few more days away from the world with Paul. I settled on watching the odd shapes my brickwork made on the ground. One zigzag, two zigzag, three zigzag-

"Sophie," He sounded closer than before but I stared determinedly at the ground. "Sophie," Closer still. Four zigzag, five zigzag, six zigzag. Suddenly a single blazingly warm finger tilted my chin up from my downcast gaze and I found myself staring at Paul's face. Again.

"Don't think that our conversation before the Woods-" We'd taken to naming the concussion/rain/hypothermia incident the Woods because neither of us wanted to talk much about it, although the curiosity was almost visibly eating away at Paul. "-is forgotten. We're still going to talk about those," he struggled with the words. "_Things _on your neck." His face was dead serious and I felt my breath choke my throat.

"Since when are we talking? I don't remember scheduling anything…" I breathed, sarcastically using some of my rapidly depleting stock of oxygen.

"Since now." He growled. "I don't like staying away from you. And when I do, look what happens-" My brain caught onto the first sentence and went flying into ecstasy before the second sentence made my guard go rising up too.

"Nothing happened." I interrupted, calmly, coldly. Paul gave me a withering look.

"That's bullshit and I'm not letting this one go. But Soph," there was that nickname again. "If anything like this, ever, _ever_ happens again, I want to know about it." There were two things in his eyes: blazing, fierce determination and…fear. Fear that it **was** going to happen again.

"Nothing happened." I repeated, weakly. Paul stared me down and I wanted to blurt my entire life story out. Again. I looked down again, not moving my head because it was still held in place by his hot grasp. "Fine." I whispered, so softly that I could barely hear the word.

He pressed something small and thin into my other hand and it closed around it automatically. "Promise me Sophie." I stared and stared and stared until I gripped the unknown in my hand and swallowed.

"I promise."

"Good." His face tried to settle into something less serious and he drew back, hesitantly. I could've sworn his eyes darted to my lips for just a second. "So I'll see you tomorrow?"

I nodded, absently before shaking my head and frowning. "Paul, there's no school tomorrow!" I called as he walked back to his car. He just grinned which made me anxious and drove away. I looked at my hand and smiled:

_School is overrated_

_555-334-902_

_Paul_

I could've sworn I heard him laughing as I stepped inside the house.

* * *

**Review, make me warm and fuzzy again! ;)**

**Tress Blues**


	17. Marching to the Market

**I had fun with this chapter. I've been getting a few reviews wondering why the attraction is all one-sided and I really wanted to show some relatively normal (aka- does not include dying, abuse, secrets, temperatures or concussions) conversation between Sophie and Paul.**

**Enjoy!**

**Tress Blues**

Chapter 16. Marching to the Market

_Sophie_

Despite the doctor's warnings to go easy on my ribs, I cleaned up the house. My dad wasn't home, which I shouldn't have been concerned about but I was. I was worried that he'd ended up in a ditch somewhere or that he was passed out drunk in Port Angeles.

I worried even more about the sort of rage he'd be in when he got home.

I'd placed Paul's number in my room, under the floorboards where I had a collection of random things I wanted to save. It was silly of me really; my father never really came into my room but I was always prepared, just in case. Along with the number, was a brush from my grandmother, one of my dad's credit card (the one that he didn't know I'd taken but still got money in it) a picture of my parents, a thimble my mom used to fix my teddy bear a few years before she left and one of the smaller dolls I'd adorned my bedroom with when I was younger. I stroked her long dark curls before putting them all away. Then I got to work.

First was the living room. I cleared it up, tidied, vacuumed, tossed. The rest of the house followed the same pattern and I found my eyes straying towards the phone once or twice. I had to smile at myself when that happened. The realisation had sunk in on the third time when I was cleaning the bathroom: I had a friend other than Erika and I was too excited to wait. I did a tonne of washing and cleaned the kitchen.

Carefully, I threw out all the beer cans, tying them in plastic so no one would question it on the off chance they looked inside my bins. I checked the fridge and gagged. Everything had been degrading in my absence. Almost everything got tossed and I sighed at the lack of food. I'd have to go shopping tomorrow.

I rubbed my eyes tiredly, wondering about what I would say to my father, how I would break the news to him that I had been the hospital. Briefly, (naively) I wondered about his reaction. Would he be upset? Probably. Not for me, but because I hadn't been there, waiting for him. Would he be angry? Most definitely. I rubbed my healing ribs, wincing.

The afternoon was fading; I waited for my dad to get home but he never showed. I made a very meagre dinner with what I had left and slipped upstairs, to bed.

I'd never had the whole house to myself like this before. Not really. It was strange, the echo of my footsteps seemed louder than anything and I swore I kept feeling a cold breath on my neck. I rolled my eyes as I brushed out the knots of my hair. I was so paranoid.

It was getting well into the evening when I finished my homework. Usually, I'd have spread it out over the day's so that it kept me busy but I was oddly focused tonight. I rubbed the place where the doctors had stitched up my head; five jagged lines moving in a zigzag fashion, that hardly showed beneath my hair. I'd have to get the taken out in a few weeks but I didn't mind. I was merely glad I hadn't frozen to death in the forest. Speaking of…

I couldn't help my brain sometimes. It dissected things on its own. What had Paul been doing in there at all? Why had he left so abruptly? One moment he was in my doorway, shaking like a blizzard had hit (not that he'd feel it, he was running a temperature constantly) and then he was gone…disappearing into the forest.

I considered a few possibilities. Some realistic…others not so. Nothing seemed plausible. Paul Beckett remained an enigma that troubled me well into the moonlit night.

"Excuse me miss, can I help you with anything?"

I turned so fast, the jar of peanut butter I was holding slipped out of my hands. The assistant caught it in time before it hit the floor and I winced. Maybe the clumsy excuse wasn't that much of a lie. He looked familiar though, I thought, absently. "Sorry."

"No problem- hey wait a sec, you're Sophie right?" the assistant stood up again and I had to literally crane my neck to look at him. Ah, now I knew. It was one of Paul's friends and god knows they all look alike. The only thing I knew for certain was that it wasn't Jacob or Paul.

"Yes," I said, hesitantly. The boy stuck out a hand with the peanut butter.

"Quil Ateara, I think we have English together." He said and I gave a small smile. Of course I remembered him now that he said that. He was the one drawing on the foggy windows instead of listening.

"Sophie Miller." I introduced and took the peanut butter gently. He grinned.

"Oh I know. Paul won't shut up about you for two seconds."

Congratulations Sophie. You have officially entered the most awkward conversation of your life.

"That's um…nice?" I stuttered, helplessly. Quil let out a big rowdy laugh that made me take a step back.

"_Nice_? Oh that's priceless, Paul's going to shit himself." He muttered in a tone I didn't quite understand. I took another tiny step back. Better safe than sorry.

"You work here?" I asked, trying to make conversation. Well, I might as well _try _to be normal. Quil's grin twitched into a frown.

"Unfortunately," he droned, grimly and as if by cue, there was a screech from the front of the store.

"WHERE HAS ALL MY JERKY GONE?"

Quil, for all his enormous size, looked frightened out of his mind. "Oh dear lord, its coming for me!" he whispered, all the blood rushing from his face. I raised an eyebrow as he darted behind the aisle shelf.

"What's coming?" I whispered back. He winced, almost comically and looked around the corner. The shop wasn't that big; it seemed odd that he'd have room to hide, least of all not be found.

"My mother. She runs the store with my dad but he's home with a cold and my pops decided to stay home too." Quil's face turned into a slack grimace. "Lucky bastards," he mumbled. There was perfect silence for a few seconds and then…

"QUIL ATEARA, WHAT ARE YOU DOING BACK HERE? HIDING FROM ME?" roared a voice from around the corner and suddenly a small woman with frizzy black, grey streaked hair and a bright red apron on, appeared, clutching Quil's ear despite the height difference. She yanked on it.

"Mom, I-"

"I don't want to hear it! You work here Quil, you can't just _eat the merchandise!_" the woman snapped before turning to see me. Her fierce face broke out into a smile. "Oh hello dear, I deeply apologise for my son, he's all brawn no brains." She said, cheerily.

I was startled into a smile. "Umm, no, no, he was actually just helping me with the uh…peanut butter." I winced. If that didn't sound fake, I don't know what did…Quil flashed a quick grin at me while Mrs Ateara merely gripped his ear tighter before letting go.

"We will talk about this later young man," she hissed at him. I almost giggled at how utterly comical it was: Quil, the size of an insanely fit twenty year old, was cowered in submission to a woman, half the height of him, in a red apron with soft hands and a lined face under her black, white streaked hair. Mrs Ateara turned to me. "After you've finished helping this lovely girl."

"Thankyou!" Quil groaned when she disappeared round the aisle again. I smiled, tentatively.

"It's nothing. Thankyou again, I think I have everything." I said and the giant grinned.

"You know what, I like you, Sophie Miller." He said, matter-of-factly. I blushed, automatically. "It's not everyday someone gets me out of trouble with my mother."

"Who would get you in to trouble?" I asked, curiously before stopping. "Oh, sorry, you don't need to tell me-"

"Nah s'okay. You see the big group of losers I hang around with at school?" I nodded cautiously. "Well, _they _try to get me in trouble." I giggled a little and smiled at him. God, what is this, three La Push giants this year? I was on a roll.

"Well thanks again, but I gotta go," I started and Quil suddenly seemed to remember something, his face going completely serious. Was this normal? I needed Erika. She was the guy expert, not me…

"Hey, are you feeling okay? Paul told us about the whole hospital thing," he trailed off, struggling obviously. I fixed a perfectly fake smile on my face. This is why I hate meeting people. They always struggled with me…

"Perfect," I said, softly. "Never better." And I took off to the front of the store without a second thought.

Of course, he followed. Just like Paul. I wondered briefly as I set my purchases on the counter, if it was a characteristic of Y chromosome. Quil, thankfully, didn't bring it up like Paul would've, just swiped my items through the red laser keeping a steady stream of chatter. I decided I liked him; he was a good person, even though he talked a lot. The thought curled my lips into a smile. I seemed to be attracted to people who talked to me too much. Erika, Quil…Paul.

"…there you go Miss Sophie Miller. And may I just say thankyou again for excusing me from my mom's death grip." Quil finished, smiling. I smiled, tentatively back at him.

"My pleasure Quil. Thankyou," I said, heaving the bags off the counter. I may have been socially awkward but I knew manners well enough. And Quil had been nothing but kind to me.

As I went to leave the store I suddenly heard him call my name again. "Oh and Sophie?"

I turned around, my arms full of groceries. "Yes?"

Quil looked solemn and slightly pompous. "Let me give my deepest condolences."

I frowned, getting nervous. Exactly what had Paul told Quil about me? Oh god, I thought with growing horror. He hadn't figured it out had he?…"Condolences?" I squeaked, fearful.

He grinned suddenly, looking wickedly devious. "Oh yeah. You're social life is gonna _suck _now that Paul's hanging around. Seriously, he's _such _a killjoy." He stressed. I smiled a little.

"I didn't have much of a social life before anyway so nothing's been lost." I said, backing out of the shop. Piled high with brown paper bags, I hitched them up in my arms and started the walk back to my house, almost half an hour from the Ateara Convenience Store.

Not ten minutes in, the most familiar white mustang went speeding down the road, skidding to a halt at the end and jolting in reverse to where I was walking. I smiled, wryly at Paul's antics. He grinned from inside the car. "Hey there stranger. Whatcha doing?"

It was insane but my heart flipped a few times in my chest, landing somewhere near my throat. "Shopping. Buying. Walking. Usual." I replied, simply. "You?"

"Driving. Talking. Giving you a lift. Usual." He replied, copying me. I rolled my eyes, moving the bags a little. There were four, all of them packed to within inches of their lives.

"Paul I can't expect you to give me a lift, I'll walk, it's fine," I stressed, fiddling in the bag for the bread, realising that it was being squished under the milk.

Paul sighed but I didn't look up as I shimmied the loaf from under the carton. Dimly, I heard the car brake, the door close and-

"Paul put me down!" I shrieked as my legs disappeared underneath me and I went flailing into his arms. "What is your problem? I can _walk_!" I grumbled, secretly stunned that he could carry me. It was another piece of evidence into the 'Beckett Secret' file. Really freaking strong.

He chuckled as I clutched the groceries tighter, trying to make sure they didn't fall the very long height from Paul's arms to the ground.

"Sophie, Sophie, Sophie…" he mused, placing me in the open door of his car. I knew, internally that I would never quite get used to Paul's enormous size and strength but I would never quite dislike it. I landed with a slight thud, the bags shaking as he grinned at me. "We need to talk about what you will and will not accept from me."

He closed the door and walked around to the drivers side, idly. I glared at him, holding the groceries tight to my chest. I could run, I thought. I could get out and keep walking…

_How well did that end up last time Sophie? _Said a voice that sounded like Erika. _Just go with the flow. If the flow gives you a huge, gorgeous man that likes to pick you up in his arms…don't fight it! _

I gagged the voice immediately.

"Okay." I replied, reasonably when he sat down and closed the door. "First thing I will not accept: you going out of your way to drive me places."

Paul flashed a quick grin and I looked away, no longer able to scowl. "It wasn't out of my way," he said, smoothly. "I was actually coming to see if you were staying off your ribs like the doctor ordered."

I raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing around my lips. "Of course you were," I said, sarcastically. "Second thing I will not accept: you checking up on me like I'm three years old."

He pursed his lips in thought. "Hmm. I'll give you that one if I can have 'first thing you _will _accept': me as a friend." He bargained and I let out a laugh.

"Okay. Deal." I agreed and his big brown eyes widened in surprise.

"Really? I thought it was going to be more difficult." He said, happily. I pouted.

"I'm not that difficult!" I complained, lightly. He snorted.

"Sophie it took me two dents in your car, a month of hell and a concussion before you'd have a _conversation _with me." He said, stretching a little. I blushed, nonetheless.

"Well I consider you a friend _now. _Not too many people stick around long enough for me to crack." I said, softly. Paul looked curious and then smiled. _Damn that boy can smile_…crooned the Erika voice. I gagged her again, tying her in the mental closet of my mind. _Now stay _I commanded.

"I'm honoured then Miss Miller." He said, bowing a little toward me. I giggled before nudging his shoulder with my own.

"Watch the road Beckett. If you crash, I won't accept _anything _from you." I said, jokingly as he pulled up to my house. He pulled on the brakes and looked over at me, suddenly intense, like someone had flipped a switch.

"And would that make you happy Sophie? If you didn't accept me? If I left?" he asked, quiet. He closed his eyes for a moment and opened them again, staring back at my own baby blues. I couldn't breathe. All I could do was shake my head, vaguely.

"No, I don't think it would anymore…" I whispered, knowing that as soon as the words came out of my mouth, they were true. I would miss Paul if he disappeared from my life. I would miss the endless mystery and the complications he brought with him. I'd miss him as the new friend, the hope that I _could _be normal. But…was he a friend? Or something…else?

I had to look away after a few moment because the brown of his irises was beginning to simmer and burn with emotions I couldn't- maybe didn't _want_ to- understand. When I turned back to him, I was blushing. "I should go. You've fulfilled your unnecessary duty Paul, you shouldn't have to put up with me much longer." I said, only half teasing. I turned to open the door, but my fingers were wrapped around the shopping bags and I couldn't reach.

"What's wrong?"

I flushed bright red. "I can reach the handle, my hands are full." I mumbled and Paul chuckled, wisely not saying a word as he stood and came around the front of the car to open my door.

I murmured thanks to him and slid my legs out, trying to keep a firm grip on all the shopping so it didn't go crashing to the ground.

"Second thing you _will _accept from me: help." He said, chuckling as he helped me up. I rolled my eyes, still not looking directly at him in case the intensity was still there.

"Haha. Fine. But the third thing I will not accept from you: You picking me up whenever you feel like it." I said, firmly. The intensity faded from his eyes and they turned playful as he leaned over, his face inches from mine. I could feel the warm wash of his breaths; I could smell the almost spicy sea salt scent he carried around him…

"Nope. I rather like that one." He said, suddenly and the world went spinning as he picked me up again. I shrieked with laughter, thrashing. A part of me froze. This was so…normal. It was foreign territory to me; logically, I shouldn't know how to react. But I found myself still laughing because I felt at home somehow. I felt like this was everyday, usual practice. Was that a change in me? Or was that a change from Paul?

"I have legs!" I hissed, giggling. "I can walk! I'm not disabled!"

Paul shrugged and everything shrugged with him, including the peanut butter jar that was balanced on top of the lettuce in the bag. I gasped reaching for it as it fell but Paul got there first, grabbing it with super quick reflexes. My eyes narrowed automatically: Quil had done that just fifteen minutes earlier. Another clue…He held it up to me and I snatched it out of his hands glaring. "You're peanut butter milady and I believe we're at your door." He said, smugly.

I rolled my eyes and smiled. "My hero." I said, dryly. Paul grinned and I saw a sort of pride behind his eyes. My mouth dropped open as I realised…"You enjoy that don't you?"

Paul merely smiled smug as he set me back on my feet. "No idea what you're talking about."

I reached under the doormat, slightly wobbly with the vertigo of being up so high and then back down. When the door was open, I walked inside, immediately, knowing that I'd cleaned up and there was no evidence of my dark secret left. "Being the hero," I clarified, dumping the groceries on the table.

Paul looked hesitant as he walked through the door and he had reason to be: the last time he was here, I hadn't opened the door much, the time before I'd all but told him to leave me alone forever and the time before that, I'd lied about where my house even _was. _But my certainty in walking inside must've been enough for him because he eventually walked through the living room and into the kitchen, sitting down on one of the chairs that were rarely used. He gave a sheepish grin. "Maybe…"

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh don't lie, you _love _it," I teased, putting things away in the refrigerator. The bread in the pantry, the peanut butter on the shelf...Mundane tasks that didn't seem so important when I had _Paul_ in _my_ house, in _my_ kitchen, on _my_ counter stools. "Catching me in school, being a chauffeur for me," I trailed off, the last one hanging, unspoken, in the air:

_Taking me to the hospital…_

To my relief, Paul put his hands behind his head, idly. "Well if you got it…" he shrugged and then grinned, mischievously. "Flaunt it."

I laughed, rolling my eyes. "And then regret it when the damsels in distress line up." I muttered, reaching up to put the paper towels on the top shelf. They didn't make it, by about two inches even on tiptoe. "Damn it…"

"Here, let me." Paul's voice whispered in my ear and I gasped at the sudden closeness, falling off my tiptoes and accidentally brushing back against him. It felt like fire, scorching through my skin, right down to the bones. I'd never felt anything like it.

I didn't turn around as his hand took the towels and easily stored them away on the shelf. I was too busy trying to remember to breathe, trying to ignore the fire and I spared a second to notice that he was still running that furiously warm temperature. That was it, I told myself. That was the fire. It must be.

"So are you ever going to tell me what's with the heat?" I asked, ducking my head under his outstretched arm just when I couldn't stand it a second longer. It was the right question to ask: it got my mind distracted.

I noted the stiffening in Paul's shoulders and the fists that formed by his sides. "Yeah well, a few months ago I was abducted my aliens. They do the weirdest things you know…" he forced a chuckle, turning around to face me. "So I was thinking-"

"Interesting concept." I teased, thoughtfully. Paul rolled his eyes.

"Hardy-har. I was thinking that you should probably get out of the house for a while. You know, remove the distractions." He explained. My brow crumpled.

"Distractions?"

"Sophie, anybody with a pair of eyes can see every surface in this room has been scrubbed to perfection. _Recently._ You need to go out, take it easy, or you'll end up back in the hospital." Paul pointed out with a smug smile. I scowled. _Well there goes the blatant-lying plan._

"I am taking it easy!" I defended, picking up the bag of potatoes for maybe a second before Paul swiped them out of my hands. "Beckett." I growled.

"This is what I'm talking about," he insisted. "Two days out of the hospital and you've gone grocery shopping, fully intending to _walk _with the bags back to your house." He dumped the potatoes back on the counter. "That is the exact opposite of taking things easy."

"And what would you have me do? I need to keep busy or I'll drive myself insane!" I defended, making another grab for the potatoes. He snatched them away again and I slammed my hand on the countertop, fully glaring.

"I'd have you get out of the house and hang around with me." He replied with a smirk. I rolled my eyes.

"What's the occasion?" I asked, sarcastically.

"You accepting friendship." It was like he didn't even need to think about his answers. I wondered idly if he had them pre-planned in the car. I studied him for a second and then sighed.

"Hypothetically speaking, which is in _no way _an affirmative response...what would we do?" I gritted out, reluctantly. He wasn't going to let this go, I could see that. And I had no idea when this kind of opportunity might pop up again...

Despite my words of warning, Paul shoved the food in the pantry and turned back to me, one of those heart-stopping smiles on his face. "Well, I think I could figure something out." He murmured. I blinked a few times and found my traitorous head nodding.

"Okay..." I said, uncertainty ringing in my voice. I hadn't been out anywhere in years. But surely he'd never find out right? Dad was somewhere, off drinking himself into oblivion...he'd never know...would he?

And then Paul smiled again and the anxiety I was feeling literally_ melted _away. Along with my kneecaps and spinal cord. Oh boy.

* * *

**What does Paul have planned? Will Quil ever eat his beef jerky again? Read On Ladies and Gents, read on...**

**Tress Blues**


	18. Bluest Skies

**Nice Long chapter for you guys...9 pages in Word.**

**Personally, I have a friend who, well, didn't **_**introduce **_**me per se, but enlightened me to the wonders of Guns and Roses and a few other bands so that's probably where Paul's fascination with some of these bands comes from.**

**Enjoy, Review, Be Happy,**

**Tress Blues**

Chapter 17. Bluest Skies

_Paul_

She said yes.

Sophie said yes.

To me.

Sophie Miller said _yes _to me.

Well, technically she said okay but I digress.

She said _**yes.**_

I was focusing on that little fact as I opened the door to my car for her. She raised an eyebrow but hopped in obediently and I chuckled a little in elation. _She said yes!_

"What are you smiling about Beckett?" she asked, suspiciously but there was amusement in those wondrously blue eyes of hers. I shrugged, not really wanting to go into the ecstatic mood she had put me in by accepting my proposal of hanging out. I guess it wasn't _that _big a deal. I mean, it wasn't like she was just going to magically love me automatically now.

But she'd said _yes. _That had to count for something.

"Just excited about spending time with you," I said smoothly, sliding into the other side of the car and gunning the engine. I couldn't really explain why I was so joyful. I guessed it was probably to do with the fact that it seemed like she was giving me a freedom here, to be more than just an annoying acquaintance. I wondered how far she'd let me go with this new found freedom...

"So where are we going Mr Distractions?" she asked, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. I grinned at her.

"Well, I was thinking we'd drive around til we saw something fun and then take it from there. What d'you think?" I asked, politely, smirking at the way Sophie's jaw dropped and her eyebrows raised.

"You have absolutely no idea what we're going to do today do you?" she queried, amusement and disapproval mixed in her voice.

I shook my head, turning back to the road ahead, although it was all I could do not to stare at her. "Nope. Not a clue." I confessed. There was a pause and then Sophie quietly laughed. I almost drove the pair of us into a tree trying to look at her but regained control before she noticed. "What?"

"Nothing," she giggled. "It's just...I don't think I've ever done that before."

"Done what?"

"This," Sophie gestured to the car. "Not having a plan. I've always needed them before and now...I don't remember why." I couldn't help the huge grin that came over my face when she said that. We drove in partial silence for a while, every now and then asking a question or something, a little thing we missed during the days she spent at the hospital with me.

I could tell we were probably destroying the ozone layer but I couldn't seem to stop myself and pull over. It seemed like it would break the little bubble we were in and there was no way in _hell _I was about to do that.

Besides, I was already on the highway, driving well out of La Push._ It would be irresponsible to stop now,_ I tried to convince myself. Although I knew it was sort of selfish to keep Sophie locked up in a car for her weekend. _Sam did give me the whole day off..._I wheedled and suddenly stopped when I realised I was whining to myself.

"If there was one thing in the world you wish you could do right now, what would it be?" I asked, randomly after almost an hour. The region was turning into Port Angeles now; you could see where the trees were thinning out.

Sophie paused, and then glanced at me as if to answer before her cheeks suddenly turned crimson and she snapped her head away from me.

Well I couldn't let _that _kind of reaction go, could I?

"What? What's wrong?" I asked, a little concerned but Sophie steadfastly refused to look me in the eyes. _No, no, _my inner thoughts stated, curtly. _That won't do. I need to see her face. Her eyes...those blue, blue eyes..._Carefully, one hand gripping the steering wheel, I let the other trail up to her chin and gently tilted her head to meet my eyes. "Sophie?"

Her breathing hitched and I wondered, not for the first time, if she was alright and mentally thought of the nearest hospital. Was she hurt? Was she scared? _She's not hurt dipshit! _Hissed something inside me, that sounded nastily of Zoe. _She's reacting to you!_

_Huh?_ I thought at the same time as Sophie saying: "Nothing, it's nothing. I pass that question." I felt my brow crumple as I was forced to look back to the road. It didn't seem like nothing to me but something in her answer made it very clear that the topic was not open for discussion.

_Are you really that thick? _I felt a teeny part of me rise up defensively but it settled down quickly, knowing Sophie was too close to lose it now. It definitely sounded like Zoe. A little older maybe but just as irritating. Great. As if the pack's voices in my head weren't enough. _Yo! Dumb ass! Get it through your head already! _

_What? _I snapped, feeling ridiculous for talking back to an imaginary little sister. It was bad enough talking to the real one.

_She __**likes **__you._

That had any complaints about Zoe I had bottled up, go flat as a pancake on the train tracks of my brain. _Who?_

_Sophie you twit! _

Sophie? _My _Sophie? Liked me? _Me?_

_It's like talking to a monkey. _Inner Zoe sighed. I decided I'd had enough of her and absently shoved her to the back of my brain while I thought about those three little words. _Sophie likes me. _How the hell had Inner Zoe come to _that _conclusion?

_She blushes around you and you just looked her right in the face and she completely shorted out. Read the signs you douche! _I almost growled and was about to launch into a tirade about calling me names when I realised two things: Inner Zoe might be right and the very concept of waging war on Inner Zoe was absolutely bonkers.

The idea that Sophie might like me as anything more than a friend made my body screech to a halt and then throw a party. It felt like I'd gotten her friendship and now everything else was falling into place. _Don't get too far ahead, _I tried to reason. _There's so many things that can go wrong-_

Something twitched in my hand and I realised, with some surprise that my hand had drifted down to hold Sophie's, instinctively. All worries about the future disappeared as I noticed, better yet, that she didn't have anything bad to say on the matter.

I grinned. God, this was turning out to be the best day of my life.

"What's your favourite band?" she suddenly asked, her face still faintly pink.

"Guns and Roses," I immediately came up with. "Metallica. A couple of new bands like Linkin Park and Greenday are pretty good too." Sophie raised an eyebrow.

"So many? I said a favourite Beckett not a list," she teased before her eyes brightened and she reached for the knob on the crappy radio of my mustang. I was about to ask what she was doing (the thing had terrible reception, despite Jacob's attempts to fix it. I personally believed it had absorbed some of my father's personality: shitty and stubborn) when the tune picked up and I felt myself smiling automatically.

_She's got a smile that it seems to me,  
Reminds me of childhood memories,  
Where everything was as fresh  
as the bright blue sky..._

"I don't know how you did it Sophie Miller but you managed to turn on my radio to my favourite band and got pretty good reception out of it." I said with awe, instantly recognising the guitar solo to _Sweet Child O Mine, _by Guns and Roses.

"My mom loved these kinds of bands. She used to drive around Virginia with the windows down, yelling the lyrics. I was just a kid but I used to love this song so much..." She laughed and for a second, I could see the little girl she must've been. So happy, so bright...

Sophie's eyes turned to mine as the next verse belted over the radio and we entered the gathering streets of Port Angeles:

_She's got eyes of the bluest sky  
as if they thought of rain  
I'd hate to look into those eyes  
and seen an ounce of pain_

_Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place  
where as a child I'd hide  
and pray for the thunder and the rain  
to quietly pass me by..._

Eyes of the bluest sky...talk about relativity...

"Yeah," I replied and we could have run over a cat I wouldn't have cared. "It's my favourite too."

She looked away again, staring out into Port Angeles, with a type of innocent wonder that made me smile so big I thought my face was about to break.

"When was the last time you were in Port Angeles?" I asked, chuckling. Sophie looked down bashfully.

"I've never been actually. My mom used to go out occasionally for clothes but I was perfectly happy with the stuff we got down in town." She shrugged. I gaped at her. Not that we did it much nowadays with the whole 'protect La Push thing' going on, but when I was younger, you couldn't keep me away from Port Angeles without a machine gun.

"Where'd you want to go then? You get to choose since you're a first timer." I offered and she looked around as I parked in one of the nearby spots. Suddenly, Sophie's face brightened considerably and she pointed off to the pier where some kind of carnival was going on right to the end.

"Can we go there?"

As if she had to ask.

---

"You're joking! There's no way!" Sophie argued, tears in her eyes from laughing so hard. I nodded, barely able to breathe myself as we idly wandered through the mass of people gathered to watch the acrobatics to one side of the pier.

"He was covered in grease and looked like he'd just gone through hell but it didn't even occur to him to stop," I choked up. "He completely _ruined _their house. Everything had to be dry cleaned from all the marks."

Sophie laughed as I told her about the time Jared had met Kim's grandparents for the first time. "I'm not sure if I want to meet this guy," she said after a moment. "His bad luck might be infectious."

"You want to meet them?" I asked, a little surprised. She blushed immediately and turned away from me, nervously fiddling with one of her fingernails.

"Well, I guess so I mean, it's okay if I don't..." she trailed off, a little awkwardly and I realised how it must have sounded. I took one of her hands and laced my fingers through hers, something I'd been aching to do since we got out of the car almost half an hour ago.

"No, no! You can meet them, it's just..." I winced. How to put this delicately?...

"What? What's wrong?"

"I guess I don't want to scare you off..." I said slowly. Yeah, that sounded about right. I couldn't exactly turn around and say '_Well, I would introduce you but there's this thing called an Imprint Bet that will probably make them act liked possessed, attention-seeking toddlers. What's an imprint? Well, you're an imprint. My imprint. It's what happens when you see the love of your life but only if you morph into a fluff ball every time someone spills their drink on you or pisses you off._' Oh yeah, that would go down well.

Sophie's eyes gathered a sort of gleam. "Well, you've already met Erica. And she didn't scare you off." She pointed out, smugly.

I frowned remembering Sophie's tiny shouting pixie of a best friend. She'd been less than civil after the day with the car. "No. I should probably get my brain checked after that actually," I teased and she rolled her eyes, running one hand over her neck. It drew my attention to the collar of the light pink sweater she wore, drew my eyes up over the delicate hollow of her throat, up to those soft, pink, beautiful lips...

"At any rate, I think you're friends are nice. They don't scream at me at least." She said, teasing me just a little. I growled lowly at the thought of my idiotic pack mates and their stupid bets...I swear, I got my hands on them and..."Paul? Can I play?" Sophie's voice broke through the quickly rising anger and I looked up at her.

"Huh?"

"The game," she indicated to where a vendor was calling people to throw rubber balls at a stack of glass bottles: knock 'em all down and win a prize! "Can I play? I've got a few coins."

My gaze went from the vendor to the girl beside me and I felt my brow crumple. "Sophie, you don't need to ask my permission." I said slowly, wondering if it was as obvious to her as it was to me. If anything, I needed to ask her permission.

She ducked her head a little and I caught a vague curse word on her lips before she walked, determinedly over to the game. I followed, wondering exactly what to make of this little slip up.

"D'you wanna win a prize little lady? How about you sir? We got some big prizes for your little girlfriend here," the vendor asked, winking at Sophie. I felt my fist shake just a tad before the fact that Sophie's face fell when the vendor said that, drew me away from my possessive claim on her.

"Soph? You okay?" I murmured quietly in her ear. She went completely rigid for a split second and then nodded, slowly.

"I-I'm fine. It's nothing," she stuttered, nodding to the vendor for three balls. He handed them over and I watched as Sophie scanned them, curiously. I was about to ask what was wrong when she drew back her hand and let the ball go...sending it straight into the heart of the little glass bottle stack.

I felt my jaw swing open and vaguely realised the vendor's had too. Of course, neither of us had expected little, delicate Sophie to have such an arm on her. The bottles toppled over on the first go and she smiled, happily, so happy that I felt my own smile get bigger as I let instinct take over, picking her up by the waist and swinging her round, revelling in the sound of her laughter.

I was _such _a sap. But I couldn't have cared less. In fact, it was probably one of the best moments of my life: Sophie letting me touch her like that.

"I didn't know you could throw so well," I complimented when she pointed to one of the average sized teddy bears, although the vendor tried to get her take one of the over sized stuffed animals. But no, Sophie was modest if anything.

She ducked her face into the soft fur of the plush and I caught a tiny smile on her face. "Thanks. I was just remembering the last time I played baseball, in Virginia. I was pretty good before we moved." She smiled, fondly and I could barely contain a grin: she was opening up again. Just for me.

"Pretty good? Sophie, you must've been fairly epic. I mean, it takes fifty bucks to get anything that size usually," I remarked, gesturing to the white bear.

She looked up at me, smiling. "Thanks." She bit her lip, like she wanted to say more and then thought better of it. Her gaze was distracted and she went to another one of the shows, this time a contortionist who was bending and twisting herself inside a glass box.

As much as I hated the conversation's end, another thought occurred to me that made me smirk, elated:

Sophie never corrected the vendor when he said she was my girlfriend.

---

_Sophie_

I had never felt as frustrated with myself as I did now. I had never felt so _confused._ I really hated being confused: it was one of the few things in life I couldn't stand.

But my body was jumping and wriggling all over the place in terms of feelings and I'd never wanted to shut myself away more. But I couldn't. I couldn't force myself to take a step back because that would mean missing out on time with Paul.

My body and mind seemed to be at war at the moment, with each other and themselves.

My mind was begging to take a moment and calm down but there seemed to be a thick fog in place of reason; urging me just to go along with the flow. My body, on the other hand, was debating between my natural response to cringe whenever someone touched me excessively as a reflex and Paul's unique ability to make me melt with just a finger.

A fact that I was quickly finding less and less interesting and more and more frustrating.

"Okay, so line up the shot," Paul was murmuring, lifting my arm ever so slightly to match the gun's crosshairs with the red and white target. My fingers shook as I pressed them near the trigger but I didn't know why. The bullets were rubber of course and it wasn't as if the fate of the world rested on me hitting the little yellow duck so there was no reason to be nervous.

My body's reaction was so confusing to me until I realised- I wasn't reacting to nerves. I was reacting to pure _him._

He was so much taller than me, so much stronger, yet his arms were the safest, warmest place I'd ever been. He could probably crush me like a twig but he handled me like something soft and delicate, something that might run away if he wasn't careful. My knees twitched, like they wanted to buckle and I gritted my teeth, trying to ignore the fact that Paul was right behind me, his arms around me as I held the carnival gun at the shooting ranch.

One hand on mine over the trigger, the other helping to steady it at the barrel, my back pressed into his chest...and he smelled so good, spicy like sea salt...

"And then you need to make sure it's steady..." Paul instructed and I clenched my jaw further. He was right there. _Right there. _

I'd never wanted someone like this. I'd never even remotely felt the urge to be close to someone like I did Paul. And boy did I want to be close...I felt so, so stupid though. I was crushing. _Crushing. _On a guy that wanted to be my friend, who had stated that word so many times, it couldn't have been healthy to recall.

I was an idiot.

_Little Sophie Miller, _I could hear a nasty little voice taunting. _Poor girl has a little crush on Paul...like he'd even look twice..._

Oh, I wanted him to look twice. I wanted him to look at me like he had during those first few days of conversation. But I could tell, I'd worn him down by now. He was no longer interested in anything other than friendship because I was a curiosity, someone who pushed him away.

I knew _that _with complete certainty. It was in the stiffness he'd adopted when the vendor assumed me to be his girlfriend, it was the way he always kept a sort of distance between us, like he was afraid of me. I also knew that I was scaring the living daylights out of myself with these urges. It was such a little thing to set me off: Paul whispering in my ear or taking my hand. And suddenly I wanted to lean into him, I wanted to feel his arm around my waist.

And right now, those urges, those unfamiliar stumbles of my heart...well, they'd gone pretty much berserk as soon as I'd picked up the gun and Paul had offered to show me how to play. It felt like I was trembling, tiny minute shivers running across my skin. The slightly murky sun beat down on Port Angeles, the many families and kids continued playing at the carnival...why wasn't anyone else feeling this earthquake?

"And then you should be alright to go." Another whisper. Another stutter in my chest. Another warm encasing of his scent across my face. I took a shaky breath and lined up the target, letting child-bred instincts take over where aim was concerned and then-

_Bam!_

The little metal target on the yellow duck flattened and I loosened my death grip on the gun, smiling. I was getting good at this, I mused, waving down the vendor as he tried to give me a prize. In my mind, I'd already had my prize.

"You should get something for that Soph, it was a good shot." Paul whispered into my ear, still behind me but not touching anymore. My throat swallowed reflexively.

Oh god. This was not good. Those little urges, making my skin into live wire, where every touch sent off sparks, started to develop a voice. And what they said stunned me.

_Kiss him._

I had never kissed anyone in my life. I'd never wanted to really. Boys, at the age I moved here, were still friends and when my life-long curfew began, I'd been too painfully shy to make contact. By now, I'd pretty much accepted to myself that I was never going to have a relationship of any kind other than vague friendship.

And now, I was resenting my resignation apparently.

_Kiss him. Just do it. Kiss him right now._

"Sophie?" I turned around and came face to face with a pair of endless brown eyes. I could probably lean up...my tiptoes would be enough...it wouldn't be hard at all...and these sparks would fly..."Soph?"

I blinked. Once, then twice. Then I snapped out of it.

I gave him a weak smile. "I'm fine. Just a little hungry I guess." I excused and he flashed me _that _smile. The one that made my spinal cord go all mushy.

"Well then let's go catch some food at _The Portside,_" he suggested, taking my hand quickly and gently guiding me through the crowd. I felt a deep flush overcome my face. What had I just considered doing?! We got off the pier and walked directly across the street to a small little cafe type place with a sign out front saying _Portside Specials._

"I can't afford it," I murmured, disappointed at not being able to go inside. It seemed nice too; one of those semi-family quaint little places.

Paul shrugged. "I know the owner."

I didn't ask how, only smiled as we reached the front door and Paul strode on in without a care in the world. I followed a little meeker since I hadn't been in a restaurant for years at the very least. I had to follow though: for one thing, I wanted to and for another...Paul hadn't let go of my hand yet.

It was packed but surprisingly calm as we passed the tables and went straight to the counter, to where a middle aged dark skinned woman was busily scribbling away in an accounts book. "No, no...more for Soli...needs it with that watermelon on the way...But that's not right...what? Oh dear, I did it again..." she muttered to herself, crossing out something and punching it into the calculator at her side.

"Hey Courtney," Paul greeted, smiling. The woman looked up and I noticed she was actually quite pretty for her age.

"Paul? Is something wrong?" she instantly fretted but he shook his head right away, as if expecting the question. _So he's usually the one she asks if something is wrong? What could be wrong? Or is it all his friends as well..._

_**Okay, **_I immediately snapped at my analysing. _**I am trying to have an afternoon where I don't have to worry about my father or Paul's stupid secret. Shut up!**_

"No, I was just passing through with Sophie here," before he could say another word, Courtney somebody had descended upon me with a bright smile.

"So _you're _Sophie! Hello dear, my name's Courtney Young. Gosh, I never thought I'd see the day, considering how much reluctant Paul's been to give us information!" she laughed and I cracked a tiny smile, casting an almost thankful glance at Paul as he grimaced.

"We?" I felt compelled to ask and she nodded, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, me, Emily, Penny, Sue and some others. We've been digging for information for weeks now!" she sounded impressed that he'd managed to withstand their probing for so long and I suddenly got the uncomfortable feeling I'd been the topic of many conversations lately.

"That's...nice," I choked out. _Crap, _I despaired internally. _I'm never going to make it through this without _someone _noticing._

_Overreacting, _I calmed myself. _Definitely overreacting. _I still wasn't sure exactly who this woman is but she seemed nice enough.

"Anyway, we decided to get something to eat. Got a spare table?" Paul suddenly cut in and Courtney nodded, thoughtfully.

"Give me two minutes and I should be able to rustle something up, it's a little busy. There should be some chairs at the back though." she replied happily. Paul turned to say something to me but Courtney called him over to help pile down some of the stools and he grimaced before following.

Looking around, I spotted the accounting book and flipped it round so I could look at it. The first thing I noticed was that Courtney, whoever she was, was hopeless at calculating. I rewrote bits and pieces without thinking, remembering the accounting chapters in my text books.

When I was done, the whole thing looked better and I smiled to myself in triumph before realising I'd just messed around with someone's money and put the book down, embarrassed.

At that moment, Paul appeared again, gesturing to the pair of seats that had been set up in a little corner that made me want to sigh in relief. I was okay at school because I knew no one would pay attention to me. However, in other crowds, I'd get the odd look that made me panic inside and I didn't want to ruin the day with a wave of mass hysteria.

The little corner was secluded enough that when I sat down, no one even noticed and the nearest table was a few feet away. Paul grinned, obviously proud that he'd chosen a spot I enjoyed. I rolled my eyes. "What are you smiling at Beckett?" I scolded, smiling a little.

He grinned bigger. "Nothing. Just you."

For some odd reason, those little words made my stomach flip. _Just you. _

I looked down at the menu and immediately sought the cheapest item: water and a burger. Paul looked a little confused as I gave the order to the waitress (who was looking appreciatively at Paul, though I couldn't blame her). "What? Do I have something on my face?" I wondered after he stared at me for a long moment.

"No, no." Paul reassured me but he did look a touch suspicious. Oh no. Suspicious Paul was a _bad, bad _thing. "I just didn't peg you for a burger girl."

I bit my lip, my logical mind beginning an affirmative response when the truth fell from my lips without any incentive from me. "I'm not really. More of the pasta kind. But it's less expensive than anything else and I don't want to put Courtney out."

Paul quirked an eyebrow and called the waitress back over before she'd made the order and I watched with growing horror as he reordered for me and she smiled, leaving with a new slip of paper. "Paul," I hissed.

He shrugged, innocently. "Sophie there's no reason for you to eat something you don't want." He pointed out as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. I refrained from spitting out a remark about how many things I did that I didn't want to.

"It's _way _too much to expect of the owner," I rebutted and Paul suddenly flashed me a grin. That heart-fluttering, stomach-flipping, throat-swallowing urge returned: _Kiss him._

Needless to say I told _that _little voice to shut the hell up.

"I'm not expecting Courtney to pay for it. Quil would kill me. I'm paying but you would never have stepped inside if I'd told you that." He explained, smugly. As if I couldn't just get up and leave now.

I was getting ready to do so but my stupid curiosity returned full blast. "You're right, I wouldn't have. It's way too much. But why would Quil kill you?"

He ran a hand against the back of his neck and deliberated for a second. My analysing side tensed, ready to dissect any information he gave out. I still had no clue what it all meant but it made me feel better that I noticed these things. If he ever did tell me, at least I'd have evidence.

"Courtney is Claire's mother." He finally said and I felt a little disappointed. That was all?

"Well, who's Claire?"

He was about to answer when a resounding "_Mommy!_" came shrieking through the restaurant and I turned my head reflexively to see a little girl of roughly four came bounding through the doors and hit Courtney head on. The woman barely had time to ditch the phone she was holding before the little girl was in her arms, kissing her cheek.

I smiled, softly as Courtney beamed back at the little girl and then laughed at a frazzled looking man who came through the door after her, who looked old enough to be her father.

"_That_'s Claire." Paul said, chuckling. The sound seemed to catch the girl's attention and she suddenly whipped her head around to look for the source, eyes widening when she spotted Paul.

"_Paulie!_" she squealed, scrambling down from her mother's arms and weaving like a field mouse between the tables before launching herself into his lap. I giggled before I could help myself and smirked at Paul as he swung Claire up.

"Paulie?" I repeated, smirking. He rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out at me while a faint blush stained his face. Wow. That was usually me.

Claire seemed to notice me for the first time and broke her enthusiastic monologue about possibly seeing dolphins in the pier to stare at me. "Hello!" she suddenly chirped. She was adorable in the grass stained white sundress she wore, swinging her legs as she sat on Paul's lap.

"Hello," I smiled back and she beamed.

"My name's Claire, who're you?"

"My name's Sophie," I introduced. Her long dark hair was tangled around her shoulders with leaves and twigs stuck in them. _Now that, _I thought. _Is the sign of a kid who's had a good day._

Claire's eyes grew huge as she looked between Paul and me like a ping pong match. "Are you a wolf girl too?" she suddenly asked, very quietly. I felt my brow crumple but before I could ask what exactly a wolf girl was, Paul swooped in and whispered something in her ear which made her run, squealing toward the kitchens.

"Wolf girl?" I repeated to Paul and he shook his head, smiling a little darkly.

"It's something Claire came up with when she was little. Don't worry she calls most of the girls that." He explained although I felt like I wasn't getting the full picture.

We continued on talking and eventually Claire arrived back with three scoops of ice cream. It was almost comical how she served them to us: she carefully held hers with her pinkie and handed me mine while poor _Paulie _got his practically thrown at him.

I quickly found out exactly why Paul let her call him Paulie when she sat next to me on a spare chair and started chattering away about her school and friends and what Bryan said to Katie that made her cry and deck him. She was absolutely, without a doubt, the _sweetest _little girl in the northern hemisphere. Everything she said was so enthusiastic and her smiles were infectious.

"Sophie? Are you coming to the bonfire next week?" Claire asked, sweetly. Before I could answer, Paul slipped his fingers over her mouth.

"Claire-Bear, _I _was gonna ask her that," he mock-scolded. She rolled her eyes and mumbled something between his hands as he turned back to me. "Sophie, would you like to come to the bonfire next week?" he asked, smiling impishly.

I smiled back at him, a little saddened. I didn't know when my dad would be back and if he found out I was going out, there'd be hell to pay. As much as I was trying to keep the two separate today, Paul and my father were my main thoughts right now.

"I don't know..." I mumbled unsurely. _He might believe me a little if I said I had a school thing...But I doubt I'd get off that easily..._

Claire pouted, pushing Paul's hand away from her face. "But you _have _to!" she cried. "Please? Everyone'll be there! It won't be fun if you don't come!"

"It's a family thing," I excused myself, half-relieved, half-disappointed. I didn't understand where the latter was coming from.

"Soph," Paul murmured. "You're family to most of them already."

My brow crumpled. "How? I've barely met any of them." I protested and that soft red tinge appeared on his cheeks, stunning me once again.

"Well...I might've let slip a few...things..." he muttered under his breath, awkwardly and Claire looked confused.

"A few things? Paulie, you talk about Sophie all the time!" she argued, throwing her hands up. "That's how I knew she was a wolf-"

"Claire-Bear, remember what Embry said about quiet?"

Claire ducked her head. "Yeah..."

I blushed too but for different reasons: Claire was the second person who had told me Paul talks about me. I wasn't even sure I wanted to know what he spoke about. It might make me even more paranoid.

"Please come?" Claire rebounded, begging. The glistening-eyed lip-trembling unbearably-sad puppy dog pout she was using on me was torturing me. I bit my lip, wondering if her parents had any idea what they were unleashing when she was born.

"She gets the face from Quil," Paul interrupted, shrugging unapologetically. "But hey, if it works..."

"I'd have to check..." I finally said, with a glance at Paul. "But I _might_ be able to come." I stressed the 'might' but Claire squealed happily and I knew she hadn't heard the word at all.

**God I love that kid. Seriously, I reckon she's pretty damn awesome.**

**I've also got a massive curve ball coming up in the next chapter so please review! **

**If anyone guesses what it could be before I post, they win...a PMed clue as to what happened to poor little Mattie....**

**Please review- They make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.**

**Tress Blues**


	19. Zoe

**Guys, it's curve ball time!!!  
I got a few reviews from people asking me what Sophie was going to do but I hate to inform you all...it's got nothing to do with little ol' Sophie Miller.  
Muahahahahaha!  
Tress Blues**

Chapter 18. Zoe

_**Zoe**_

_From the Greek "__Ζωη__"  
__Pronounced "ZO-ee"  
Meaning: "Life"_

_Paul_

I had no idea what to make of the end of the day. By the time we'd driven back from Port Angeles and made it to the front of her house, I'd managed to make myself even more paranoid than usual.

I didn't want her to go back into that house. That was something to be avoided, instinct told me. _At all costs. _I didn't want to let her out of my sights either because I was positive something would happen the second I did. But Sophie wouldn't hear of it if I asked her. So I just kept the engine running as I looked for something to say.

Turns out I didn't have to look long.

"Thanks Paul," Sophie murmured, smiling faintly. "Today was...really great actually."

"You sound surprised," I teased and she laughed.

"I am. I'm not good at...impulsiveness." she pursed her lips. "But I liked it. It was fun."

There was silence for a long moment and I tapped my foot against the pedal, lightly but obsessively. _Damn it Beckett! Think! _"Will I see you tomorrow?" I blurted out and for a second I wished I hadn't- Sophie's face went from contentedly happy to solemnly pensive.

"Maybe." She finally replied. "I'll have to decide whether to go to school tomorrow. I'm not sure I'm going to like being the centre of attention." Sophie grimaced at the thought of it and a quick flash of anger ran up my spine at the students of La Push High School. Couldn't they mind their own business?

"Well, I could pick you up in the morning," I suggested carefully. Her face turned completely blank. Crap.

"I'm not sure..." she whispered, eying her house. The garage was shut and for some reason it seemed to make her nervous. Another flash of anger. She was nervous about her father and she should never have to feel nervous ever....Another flash. And another. My hands trembled. Suddenly her eyes locked on with mine and a tiny little spark flickered in the blue. "I can probably meet you down the street. At the edge of the block. I've got something to deliver down that way tomorrow anyway."

The trembling ceased immediately after she said that and I smiled at her, slightly awed at how she could calm me so quickly. The stories never mentioned that. That your other half was like an antidote to rage. That she was not only your whole world but a path to peace. I loved the way she did that. I loved everything about her. "Okay. Tomorrow. 8:45?" I checked and she bit her lip, nodding.

"Sure. I'll see you then." Sophie murmured, her eyes slightly narrowed as if she was thinking something over. And then she leaned over and for just a second, I felt her soft lips on my cheek.

I can't exactly describe how it felt. It wasn't like Sam and Emily's tenderness or Jared and Kim's sweetness_._ No, this felt like...warmth. Like home. Like everything was aligned. Like her lips belonged there. I was stunned. Shocked. Astonished. Amazed.

"Thanks Paul." She whispered and as much as I wished I could just drive away with her in the front seat, Sophie hopped out and entered her house without a word.

I drove back to my place in a daze. All I could think, over and over, was that Sophie had kissed me. That, in some small way, she wanted me the way I wanted her. It wasn't just me. There was hope. I'm sure I must've looked like I was on drugs when I walked through the door but drugs, I was sure, couldn't have gotten me as high as I felt now.

"_Paul!_" Zoe squealed, running straight into me and jumping up and down, beaming. "Guess what? Guess _what?_"

I couldn't snap back at her. I couldn't find it in me to be the grouchy older brother tonight. "What is it kiddo?" I asked, grabbing her by the ankles and swinging her upside down. She shrieked with laughter, obviously more excited than angry as I swung her around.

"Your friends came over cause- cause they were looking for you and, and, and then I told them I couldn't let them in cause I don't know 'em and then one of them said they were gonna go and then they left but even though you weren't here, one of them, Collin and um, Seth, they came back and played with me _all _day!" she gushed, giggling. It was times like these when she really showed her age-

Wait.

_What?_

"Zo," I started slowly. "Did any of them seem a little...odd to you?"

She put a finger on her chin, looking absurdly serious for an upside down four year old but then she nodded.

_Oh no. _"Yeah, they're all _really _big but they're nice too! And Collin is _really _nice, he played with me all day!"

_No way in hell._

"Did Collin say anything to you?"

Zoe nodded, looking confused. "One of them said a bad word when Collin talked to me. I thought it was cause he wasn't allowed to but then they said he could come back with Seth if he could control himself. It was fun though Paul! Can Collin come over tomorrow?"

_No way in fucking hell._

"Where was mom in all of this?" I demanded, feeling my hands trembling already. _Calm down Paul, Zoe's right here. You don't even know if it's true. It could be just paranoia..._

Zoe shrugged as I put her back on the ground and knelt down in front of her. I couldn't trust myself not to grip her leg too tightly. "She had to go to work. Mr Tills called her in again. She said she would pay Collie and Seth to babysit me and I _told _her I'm not a baby so Collie didn't take the money or anything!"

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. The wolf part of me, the part that was writhing in anger had its mind on just one thing: _Collin Daniels must die._

"That's great Zoe. Is mom here now?" I asked, trying desperately to keep calm. _In a second...just make sure Zoe's okay here...then go kill the little twerp..._

She nodded, her long dark hair swinging. "Yep. Mr Tills is paying her extra for going in so we get to have pizza tonight!" she squealed, happily. I gritted my teeth.

"Okay. I'll be back Zo. Save me a slice would you?"

She nodded, enthusiastically and bounded out to the kitchen. I made it out the front door before I phased, shredding my jeans and shirt and shoes.

_Aw hell Paul, those were mine! _Embry whined as I joined them, darting through the forest. _Can't you screw up your own clothes- Oh. You know._

_Paul, calm down man, I know it's hard but it's not his fault, _Seth pointed out but I was seeing red again.

_Zoe? My little sister? Why her huh? Why fucking her? She's a little kid! She's my __**little sister**__! _I roared, heading straight to Sam's place. The dweeb would probably be there, I figured. Eating fucking muffins, grinning about imprinting on Zoe...I howled in rage, speeding up.

_Someone call Sam! _Jared called, trying to cut me off before I tore Collin to pieces.

_On it, _Seth replied, phasing back to human form. It was too late though; Emily's little house came into view and I was so close to just barging through the door as a wolf when I felt something hard and huge knock into my side.

_Paul, calm down._ Jared ordered as I swiped at him, furiously. All I could think was that he'd imprinted, that fucking bastard had _imprinted _on my little sister. _My _annoying little sister who was going to have him around for the rest of her life, who was _meant _to be going to college, who was _meant _to be living her own life. One that _did not _include that fuckwit Daniels.

Jared bit into the back of my neck, trying to slow me down but I just shook him off, rolling over as I snapped back. He yelped when I snapped at his leg but growled, trying to pin me down. _You idiot! Cut it out!_

_Just lemme have ten minutes with him, _I snarled. Jared sounded repentant.

_Paul it's not his fault. It might even be a good thing-_

**Not **what I wanted to hear. I growled and dug my jaws into his hind leg as he tried to wrestle me away from the house. Fury was a better motivator. "What the hell?" the human voice reached my ears and I froze, rage renewing itself as Collin appeared on Emily's porch.

I let out a string of curses to have a sailor blushing and threw Jared off me, launching myself at Collin. He phased quicker than I could see and suddenly I felt everything he'd done today:

Going to my house, having little Zoe open the door, arguing with Brady so much he didn't see her until Seth asked if Paul was home...looking at her for the first time, knowing she was the centre of his world...knowing she _had _to be happy or else life wasn't worth living...

I roared, biting deep into his shoulder with a vengeance. He whimpered a little, trying to shake me off. _It just happened! It's the imprint! I can't control it!_

_My little sister! You prick, she's __**my little sister**__! _I growled, pinning him down and going for the throat.

_**Paul stop it. Right now. **_I wanted to dive for his worthless throat but the Alpha's orders had to be obeyed so I just growled, menacingly. _**Paul.**_

_Zoe? Seriously? Why her? _I groaned, finally releasing Collin. It wasn't without difficulty.

_**You know full well that imprinting isn't a choice. It just happens. **_Sam said, slowly toning it down from Alpha to pack mate.

I whined. _But Zoe? She's my little sister. She's just a kid. _

_I don't think of her like that! _Collin said, horrified. _She's just..._He couldn't explain it but I could see it in his mind: Zoe had somehow weaselled her way into becoming the most important creature in the universe. At the same time, he wandered through my thoughts. _She wants to see me again?_

He brightened considerably. I growled, low in the back of my throat. _Don't get any ideas. You don't get to see her for a few days. Let me get used to the fact that she's gonna have a sixteen year old body guard for the rest of her life..._I grumbled.

_That sounds reasonable Collin, _Sam reminded him as he started to protest. There was quiet for a moment and then:

_So...Collie huh? _Embry said, trying for casual and coming out somewhere close to 'going-to-piss-myself-laughing'.

_Shut up. _Collin muttered, whining. The pack broke down into laughter.

_As in Border Collie? Like the dog? _I had to laugh at the irony of it all: Collin was white with a black overcoat, _exactly _the same colouring as a Border Collie.

_Oh god, she's got you pegged, _Jared howled. When they were done dissecting my memories with Zoe, they moved backwards, stumbling onto my day with Sophie.

And then, excuse the pun, the wolf whistles started. _Look at ickle Paulie, all lit up because of a peck on the cheek, _Seth had phased back at that moment and laughed at my reaction.

_Laugh it up buddy, when you imprint, I bet you'll ten times worse. _I snapped at him but not venomously. I was sinking back into my Sophie-induced good mood.

_She's coming to the bonfire? _Embry asked, fast-forwarding. I could see the direction of his thoughts.

_Don't. Even. __**Think.**__ About it._ I ground out. I'd _just _gotten her as a friend. They were _**not **_going to ruin it with their freakin' bet.

_Oh come on! _Jared whined. _You did it to Kim!_ I rolled my eyes.

_So? I didn't win. Quil is a kiss up. _I pointed out. Quite frankly, the only reason Quil won Kim over was because he had been the only one to give up his food first. I doubted anyone else would've gone to those lengths.

_Okay, phase back. Emily already wants to have words with whoever ruined her azaleas. _Sam ordered, sounding irritated at the end. I almost laughed and barely suppressed my thoughts before they fell out: Sam Uley, fearsome Alpha of the La Push werewolf pack...domesticated to the point of knowing what the hell an azalea was. _Watch it Beckett._

_Watching, _I muttered, damning the interlinked pack mind. _Er...Sam?_

_Yeah, yeah, I'll grab 'em. _He muttered, phasing back to human form and pulling on his jeans before darting inside the house. Collin eyed me warily.

_I'm not going to rip you to pieces once you change back you douche, _I told him. _Although the idea __**is **__tempting..._

Collin snorted, disappearing behind the nearby trees. "Thanks. It means a lot to me _bro,_" he mocked, coming back out with a pair of shorts on.

I growled on instinct but before I could follow up, something dark flew at me. Three times in one night. _God, that's really getting old. _I whined, taking the shorts in my mouth and trying not to gag as I phased back and yanked them on. And then I had to brace myself for Emily Young's wrath as she discovered precisely _how _her flowers got so trashed.

Needless to say, I barely made it out alive.

---

_Sophie_

The next morning, I woke up with a smile on my face and a bruise on my arm. Despite the slight throbbing, I was...happy? That could have been it. A contradiction to say the least.

-''-''-''-

When I'd come home last night, Dad had finally decided to come home as well. I was almost worried enough to ask where he'd been until I spotted his friend, Jeremy Anderson sitting beside him on the couch.

Dad looked...worse for wear. He hadn't shaved or bathed in a while and he looked like he'd been hanging out in the same clothes for a few days. I was quick to see the beer bottles before they spotted me; originally, when I'd spotted the garage door shut, I knew someone was home. So I made sure I was quiet when I came in and had almost made it to the stairs when Anderson called out.

I cringed, wondering if his presence would be enough to keep me from my father's wrath. When I turned around, Dad looked irritated with me. "Where the hell have you been?" he barked and I kept my eyes on the ground as he stumbled toward me.

"I was doing school work with Erika. She asked me to stay later, so I did." I muttered, not looking him in the eye. I just wanted to go to bed, to have this day end as happily as it had been. But that didn't look fit to happen so I just kept quiet as Dad laughed.

"More like you _begged _to stay later huh? Pathetic, can't even face your own father after what you did can you? Can you?" he yelled, his voice steadily getting louder. He grabbed a hold of my arm and yanked, pulling me off the first step. I winced at the pain; he held on so tight I could barely move. "You're the reason why she's not here either! Why they're not here! You piece of scum, you wrecked _everything!_"

He seemed to be waiting for something. A challenge to his authority or something like it. But I refrained from snapping back that he hadn't been a father to me in years as I remembered and felt the truth come crashing down on me once more, I kept quiet, barely shaking my head. Something twitched inside me but I put a lid on it as he shoved me away from him, disgusted.

"Get out of my sight."

I didn't need to be told twice. I practically sprinted up the staircase and made it into my room before he could change his mind. I slid down to the floor, tears choking up in my throat. I never cried in front of him. Never. But tonight, I couldn't hold in my remorse: remorse of my little brother, remorse of my mother...but most of all remorse that these days had ended, these beautifully perfect days with Paul.

I peeled away my sweater and tenderly felt the soon-to-be bruise before changing into my pyjamas and lying awake in bed, going over everything. What cropped up most in my thoughts was how often my inner-Erika had been egging me on: _Kiss him, hold his hand, look at him..._

I found myself blushing when I recalled his question in the car. _"If there was one thing in the world you wish you could do right now, what would it be?"_

So many answers to that question, I mused, looking down at the white bear in my hands. I was only glad he hadn't noticed it when I'd come in; I don't think I'd ever been _thankful _that he was drunk.

What would I want? I'd want to stay in that car forever. I'd want to be frozen in that moment. I'd want to never have to go home. I'd want him to stay with me. Of course I couldn't tell _Paul _that. It would end any possible chance of a repeat.

I'd finally given in when he dropped me off but it was relatively conservative. I would probably be able to cast it off as a 'friendly peck on the cheek', nothing more. I still worried.

I let my hand drift upward, black shapes against the dark. They were now so cold and it felt like an eternity since Paul had held them, scorched them. I scowled, immediately. He still hadn't given me a reason for his temperature and the fact that he dodged the question with some relief every time I asked hadn't escaped me.

What could possibly be so terrible? What did _he _need to hide? Me? I had to hide everything. What was his secret?

I was a hypocrite for wanting him to tell me when I wasn't about to spill my guts either. Briefly, I contemplated telling Paul but immediately shoved the thought to the back of my mind.

I could already picture the disgust, the horror...he might tell me it was an accident but I would always be able to see the judgement at the back of his eyes. I don't think I could deal with Paul hating me too.

Something in my chest twitched again, the same feeling I'd had downstairs. I frowned, wondering what it was but it didn't reoccur. I burrowed deep into my coverlet, holding the white bear close in a way I hadn't done since I was a child. But something about it had the faint sea salt smell of Paul and a wood-like scent of Port Angeles and a smile came to my face as I remembered the day, over and over again.

I fell into an easy sleep after that, full of baseball games and furry white teddy bears...

-''-''-''-

I winced getting out bed. My arm was aching so I pulled on a dark grey sweater and my ever-trusty blue jeans. I must've had at least six pairs but what else could you wear around here? It was either too cold or too rainy for anything else.

I winced again when I realised how difficult it was going to be today. Paul was quite officially my friend, I'd just been out of school with a concussion and Erika was probably going to make a huge deal out of it to everyone. I was _so _screwed.

Once I'd tiptoed down the staircase, trying not to disturb either Anderson or my father, both of whom were passed out in front of the television, I breathed a sigh of relief upon getting outside.

I wandered down the street, making it all the way to the corner and sat down on the park bench there. I didn't have errands to run- I just didn't want to risk Paul finding out what a state my parental guardian was in and making, unfortunately, the right assumptions.

I kept telling myself it was for the best that he didn't know- I'd never seen him lose his temper but it seemed like something to fear and avoid. And he'd started shaking, so badly when he saw my bruises...

When 8.45 hit, it was like magic- Paul's mustang was suddenly right in front of me and he grinned from the passenger seat. I smiled, shyly back as I got into the car. It was still a little startling to realised how safe I felt around him. Erika was going to have a fit when I saw her next.

We talked a little, about so many things in such a short space and Paul gave me another excuse for his temperature ("I'm being serious," he insisted with a smile. "A meteor landed in my backyard one day and I've had the temperature since I touched the damn thing!") and I steered the conversation well away from my "errands" I'd needed to complete.

It was nice. Having someone to talk to was nice. Having someone listen was nice. Everything about the whole thing was nice. Which freaked the hell out of me.

When I got into school, I noted that Erika wasn't there and frowned, knowing it was going to be a tough day dealing with everything without her. I walked to my locker as usual, exchanging books and notes with my sadly abused bag and tried to ignore the fact that a dozen eyes were stuck to my back. My hands shook as I closed the door. _Just ignore it Sophie, just ignore it. Get to class, don't look around..._

"Sunny right?"

I opened my eyes immediately, just as the teacher for my Economics class walked in. I had both hands gripping the desk in nervousness. I looked up, slowly to see a girl my age craned around in her seat with an eager look on her face. "Sophie," I corrected gently.

She nodded. "Sophie, right, right. I'm Candace, we have Math together actually." She introduced and I nodded, with a small, confused smile. A little voice in my head was wondering: _And I care because?_

"So, I heard you took like a week off school huh? With Paul Beckett? What was that all about?" she asked with a sly expression. I barely contained an eye roll. Ah, so _that's _why she's suddenly talking to me. Gossip.

High school drama had never interested me the way it apparently had every other girl in the school. It was a useless waste of 'who-said-what' and 'who-dated-who' which I didn't have the patience to really follow.

"I fell in the woods and had to go to the hospital for a week. Paul came in to keep me company." I told her, honestly. I was sure it was going to be passed around the school by the end of second period so I tried to keep the original close to the truth.

Of course, I didn't add the part about Paul running off into the trees or my father bashing my head in or even the amazing time I'd had yesterday but I figured she hadn't asked about it.

Candace looked a little disappointed but perked up. "Why'd he do that? I didn't know any of the guys really...talked with anyone outside their little group." She frowned.

I shrugged. "I don't know. He just jumped out in front of me one day and introduced himself." I smiled, wondering if she could understand just how literal I was being.

"Are you like...dating?" Candace asked, looking stressed. I felt my brow crumple.

"No, no, no," I insisted. "Nothing like that." I started feeling the niggling uncomfortable sensation I usually got around people which was my paranoia telling me to stop answering questions accompanied with a strange sense of disappointment. "No, we're just friends."

"Right," she murmured, looking slightly unconvinced.

"Miss Miller? If it's not_ too _much to ask, may I have your attention?" drawled Mr Keens from the front of the room. I blushed madly and nodded my head without another sound.

---

**So Collin imprinted on Zoe. Did anyone see that coming?**

**Sophie's dad is home again and in the next chapter...****well, we'll have to see how the rest of La Push High School reacts to Paul and Sophie.**

**Love it? Hate it? Review and all shall be well.**

**P.s Just to let you know:**

**--- = Change of POV or End of Chapter**

-''-''-''- = **"Flash back" or memory**

**Tress Blues**


	20. Inhale Exhale Inhale

**URGENT! PLEASE READ! RE: PREVIOUS NOTICE!**

_I have two announcements, equally important so I figure I should just spit them out._

_First of all, I want to thank _**Stargazer1364**_ for her apology which I whole-heartedly accept. _

_I work extremely hard at every chapter, making sure it absolutely perfect in my eyes before I post it and this means there are often large gaps between updates when I lack inspiration or something gets stuck between my brain and my fingers._

**Stargazer1364**_ contacted me several times, apologising over and over again, explaining reasoning I hadn't been willing to listen to previously. This was brave and I can respect her for making amends._

_My own little explanation is that __**I've had work stolen off another site before and**__ I was so terrified of my hard work being taken that I took it all down and cancelled my account for good. __**When it happened again, this time I didn't think, I lashed out and I was a bit harsh and way too absolute for my own good.**_

_**This was an honest mistake, a case of a half-finished message and an angry writer who didn't want to listen or think it could've been a joke. I'm sorry for that.**_

_That said, I wanted to __**thank everyone who did respond,**__ almost immediately to my phantom-threat because__** I had none of that kind of support when this happened for real on the other site**__ and I was touched by the reaction, including __**some which suggested that it could've been a joke, for which I apologise for ignoring.**_

_I don't want angry PMs being sent to Stargazer for her mistakes on my behalf and I'm certainly not Queen of FFnet (Though that would be nice): It's not right of me to expect her to leave this website. __**I'm fully willing to put the incident behind me although my second issue isn't as easily as tamed.**_

_The point of the matter is: __**My hard drive has failed.**__ It crashed and burned and a heart breaking majority of my work, original and fanfiction, including several chapters of this story, have been lost._

_**Words, for once, cannot express how sorry I am to all my readers.**_

_While __**I will try my hardest to repair the damage and continue**__ on, __**I am computer-homeless**__ and have to borrow my family members' laptops for now. _

_**My USB has become my soggy little cardboard box in the darkened alley and you are all my little drum of hobo fire. I hope you enjoyed that metaphor as much as I did.**_

_For now, all I can give to you is one more chapter. This chapter._

_So without further ado:_

Chapter 19. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. 

_The nose is for breathing.  
The mouth is for eating.  
- Proverb_

_Paul_

9.

The tally was up to _nine._

Quil and Embry were quaking with laughter and Jacob was about to collapse. Jared, to his credit, _tried _to hold in the hilarity. For all of two freaking seconds.

"Oh hardy har," I sneered at them. "Look at me I'm _rolling _on the floor with laughter. Go die in a hole." I grumbled.

I hate that fucking tally.

"Aw Paul," Seth chuckled. "Don't let it get to you. Maybe they just haven't seen you smile in a while."

"Or laugh." Embry added. He was a jerk.

"Or grin without causing someone pain." Quil was a twit.

"Or do anything but _scowl._" Jared was just going to _die._

"Shut the hell _up._" I growled and suddenly a pair of freshman darted into a nearby classroom. Like I was going to _attack _them or something. I groaned as the laughter exploded behind me.

"Does that count? They _did _run!" Quil wondered aloud. I caught him swiftly in the stomach and he doubled over. I took a small amount of pleasure from his wheezing.

Nine people had seen the Sophie-induced smile on my face this morning and instead of being curious or even suspicious (I could understand that one- I smiled the entire day I put paint in the water sprinklers and pulled the fire alarm), they'd _run away._

I mean seriously? I scowl and people run away: understandable, the pack cuts a pretty mean figure when we want. I frown and people run away: I guess they just don't want to be on the receiving end of my temper. I _guess._

But _smiling_? _What the hell?_

But the tally was up to nine- or eleven if I let Quil have his way- and my smiles were now gone. Congratulations people! You've brought about Piss-Off Paul. _Again_.

"Damn Paul, relax, go see your imprint or something." Quil choked, throwing my dirty looks.

I rolled my eyes as the bell rang and we entered a long, _long _session of God-knew-what. I'm pretty sure numbers were involved somehow so I just tuned out. _Sophie has Economics...I wonder who teaches that class..._

Time passed the same way it does everyday- slowly. I spent around ¾ of the lesson daydreaming about my date (was it a date?) with Sophie last weekend and the remaining time drawing angry cartoons of Dr Ham being put in the oven and throwing them at his head while he droned on.

And finally, _finally, _life threw me a bone (no pun intended) - the bell rang.

_Oh thankyou sweet, merciful crap, _I thought to myself, practically running out of class. Dr Ham threw me a dirty look on the way out but otherwise let me leave without intervention. Today, I'd finally coerced out of Sophie, where she went every lunch- that she and her slightly nutto friend Erica went outside and hung out under the massive oak out the front of the school.

This had given me a heart attack over the fact that it was also the closest spot to the edge of the forest and no one was technically allowed out there, meaning it was isolated, deserted and close to the shadows. Perfect grounds for bloodsucker hunts.

And so I'd hatched my most epic plan. I was just going to have to make sure she stayed inside, preferably next to me and surrounded by werewolves that could kill a vampire before it even _saw _her.

Only problem is, Sophie was stubborn about a few things. And I didn't know if this was one of these things.

When she got into the cafeteria, I was already waiting. Her friend eyed me, suspiciously like I was about to try to take her wallet when I walked up to her. "Hey Sophie!" _Stay cool Paul, keep calm..._

She froze, looking surprisingly worried as I fell into step beside her. "Paul, what are you doing?" she whispered, her gaze firmly locked on her tray as she started to fill it up with a sandwich and a water. _Not enough...she's too thin..._my inner voice of reason (Yes, I _did _have one...sometimes) murmured but I shook it off, frowning.

"Talking?" I asked, cautiously.

"Why?" she hissed, forcing a smile as Erika moved past and paid for her lunch and, sneakily, Sophie's.

"Because we're friends remember?" I said slowly, wondering if she was going to renounce me again. _I can't let that happen. _Desperation shot through me. Space was evil. Space was going to kill me. There was enough space. She'd _had _enough and look where it had gotten her!

"Soph, I'm sorry," the words fell easily. _Don't let her push me out again. I can't take it. Not again. What if something happens? What if she gets hurt again? _"I don't know what I did but-"

"Paul," she sighed, a curl of silvery blonde hair billowing out. I had to fight the urge to push it back. "Look around us for a second would you?"

I frowned but complied. It was quiet. Way too quiet for a cafeteria. A good amount of people were staring at us, even more were whispering to each other and I caught the barest hint of gossip as it hit the table along side us. "_...paying him to talk to her...such a freak...god, what does he..."_

My jaw clenched, my hands fisted and suddenly I felt tremors wrack right through my spine, lethal and uncontrollable. I was used to the whispering. I was actually fine with it- let people talk. Their stories about steroids and drugs and underground fighting rings were pretty hilarious to most of us.

But they were tormenting Sophie, calling her names, drawing an attention to her that she'd spent years tricking away. Why couldn't they mind their own goddamn business? A low growl tore through my throat.

_Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. _It was all I could do to stop the tremors before I ended up paying for it. I could see my brothers tensing out of the corner of my eye but they didn't have to worry. I could clearly picture Sophie with Emily's scars, sickening and painfully raw in her face...

"Yeah," she murmured, casting a dirty glance at Erika when she realised she'd paid for her. "I've been asked seventeen times this morning if I drugged you into going out with me or if I'm blackmailing you. No one believes that we're just friends." Her cheeks were bright red when she said this and for a second, I wondered if maybe she was thinking about last night and if we really _were _just friends...

"Snowy? You coming?" her irritating little friend popped out just then and cast me a glare before looping her arm through Sophie's. It was wrong but I wanted to growl at her, send her packing.

Jesus I was messed up.

"Yeah in a second Erika." Sophie murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear. Whispers broke out at the table beside us and she rolled her sky blue eyes when she caught some of it: "_...totally flirting with him...god, how sad..."_

"Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to come sit with me today," I interjected them, not wanting her to leave yet. Especially to go sit outside where a leech could snap her up and run off with her. Because honestly, Sophie was probably the best thing their worthless senses would ever smell.

Erika bit her lip, scrutinizing me as if I'd actually asked _her _before releasing Sophie's arm slowly. "I've gotta go catch up with Shauna about the Economics homework anyway Snow," she said, casually. Her tone was strangely clear: _Don't mess this up or I will kill you. _I rolled my eyes at it.

_Go away you irritating little-_

"O-okay, I guess..." Sophie said, unsurely and there was yet another small gasp from the adjacent table. Sophie's face twitched into annoyance. "Is it okay with your friends?"

I felt like I was missing something, something nagging at the back of my brain but I dismissed it, nodding. "Yeah, you've met some of them before anyway."

"Only Quil and Jacob," she murmured as Erika stepped away, navigating her way through the maze of tables and chairs to where the Pack sat.

"Well then we have been sorely misrepresented!" Seth mocked, waving his fork around like a judge's gabble. Brady snickered at him and Jared rolled his eyes, smacking both of them over the back of the head while Jacob and Quil scowled at them.

"Your face is misrepresented." Quil muttered, sulkily as Sophie took a seat beside me, nervously. I had to admire her though, she wasn't giving into her nerves like she usually would've.

Embry rolled his eyes. "You've been spending too much time around Claire _Quilly-bear_." He taunted and his face winced with pain as Quil elbowed him in the stomach with enough force to crumble the Grand Canyon. Quil looked ready to pounce on him before I cut it off.

"Knock it off would you? You're making me look bad." I growled at both of them, lowly. They backed off it but raised an eyebrow at Brady and Collin and Seth, who were shovelling food so fast it was a wonder they didn't choke themselves as if to say: _We're _making a bad impression?

I closed my eyes. _Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. _Why had I wanted Sophie to meet the pack again? Oh that's right:

Because I'm an idiot.

"Sophie, this is Seth, Collin, Brady, the one on the end is Embry and the moron you're sitting next to is Jared. You already know Jake and Quil. Guys, this is Sophie."

And with those few words, I sealed my own coffin.

_Fuck._

_Sophie_

If I thought Paul was bad, these guys were terrifying. They were just...too big. Their eyes were too sharp. They looked at me like they could see the bruises and the cracks and scratches. I wanted to hide, the way I normally did but I'd already established that life sans Paul was terrible.

And they just wouldn't leave me alone.

_Ding, ding: Round One._

"So Sophie, we heard you went to the carnival the other day, right?"

"So Sophie, you're good at math aren't you?"

"Better than Jacob at least."

"That doesn't say much."

"Hey!"

"So Sophie, how much is Paul paying you to hang around?"

"Yeah, you're _much _prettier than his usual- _Ow, would you stop kicking me?_"

"Would you shut up?" Paul growled back.

"So Sophie, you saw Quil getting beaten up by his Mom right?" I focused on the one question I had a hope of answering without a nervous breakdown.

"In the grocer's you mean?" I checked, warily.

The boy in question was younger than the rest and I mentally clicked my fingers, trying to remember his name. He seemed as though he was as irritated with the onslaught of questions as Paul was but he turned a bright smile on me when he laughed. "Yeah. Mrs Ateara is tough as nails on the Jerky Stealers."

"Steal…ers?" I echoed, slowly.

_Seth, _I remembered. _That's his name._ "Oh yeah," he nodded, taking another bite out of his food. Mercifully, he swallowed before replying. "We usually just put the blame on Quil-"

"_I knew it!"_ Quil roared.

"-but Mrs Ateara has been missing her beef jerky for a while now." Seth finished, ignoring him. I cracked a smile.

Embry elbowed him once he was finished and hissed something so quickly, I could barely hear anything except "…wanna join in after all?..." in a scathing tone.

Before I could ask though, another one of them had interjected and stolen the mad runaway train this conversation seemed to be emulating and all I could wonder was whether it was about to become a trainwreck.

"So Sophie," Collin- I think- interjected, a gleam in his eye as he edged away from Paul. "You're an impartial witness: Out of me and Brady, who'd be a more attractive salesman for an advert?"

_Ding, ding: Round Two._

"Man, you _need _to get over that," Brady suddenly moaned through his burger. "It was convenient on the day."

"I'm just saying I should've been first pick over you in the commercial!" he defended, vehemently.

"God, would you two _shut up_?" Jacob moaned. "You're embarrassing. Sam's probably regretting the decision to air it anyway."

"Commercial?" I whispered to Paul, unable to quell my curiosity.

Paul looked away, coughing slightly. "So how about these sandwiches-"

And then I remembered the loud twittering I'd heard a few months ago about how absolutely _hot _the La Push gang boys were- as the girl's bathroom conversation usually went- and how especially _gorgeous _they'd been on their commercial. The one for the Mechanics Shop their friend had opened in La Push.

Immediately, I was hit with memories of the night my father flicked on the television and seen, without even a sip of alcohol in his system to dull the senses, the new mechanics advert. He'd been furious because every car that went to them was fixed for longer and a cheaper price which meant less and less work for him.

I winced, remembering that night and how bad it had gotten. How angry he'd been. How he'd thrown me around like a ragdoll. How he'd bent back my fingers so far they almost snapped. How he'd thrown the vase my mother brought from our home in Virginia, thrown it straight toward me with the dead accuracy that I'd inherited-

Unbidden, new images came, images filled with the raw fury of Dad and the trigger I was unable to help…coupled with the cool, manipulative gleam in the eyes of Jeremy Anderson as he egged him on for his own purposes…

"Sophie?" Paul nudged me and I realised I'd been gripping the brad of my sandwich so hard, the mayo was dripping out the sides, gluggily. I scowled in disgust, dropping it and wiping it off on my napkin.

"Sorry, just…zoned out." I excused myself, shaking the images away. "What were you saying?"

"Sandwiches-" Paul began when at precisely the same time, Collin and Brady said: "The Commercial."

"Right…" I said, a small smile starting to grow when I remembered more about the twittering I'd overheard in the bathroom. "I heard something about that."

"Oh, I wouldn't be surprised," Jared said, wickedly. "A lot of people were talking about it for days after-"

"_Weeks _after," Embry threw in, innocently. "Something about-"

"Our Paulie's '_superlicious goooooorg bod' _right?" Jacob added in a falsetto. Quil fluttered his eyes and mimed fainting.

"I'm gonna kill you all." Paul moaned, his fingers stiff and rigid on the table. He thumped his head onto the table but his tone sounded equal parts despair and seriousness. _Ooooh, Round Three enters with a vengeance._

Without thinking, I weasled my fingers through his and squeezed slightly. "All I heard was girls wondering if you had a tattoo." I teased. Paul moaned, this time sounding a little more embarrassed, a little less homicidal.

"That's new." Quil commented, surprised.

"What did they think he had?" Jacob asked, curiously.

"I think the two main contenders was a heart with _MOM _in it and a tiger cub." I replied, slightly more comfortable with Paul's hand in mind. I chose not to question or analyse why that was and then decided I would do it later anyway.

The entire table broke out in laughter.

"_Mom…_"

"Oh wow…"

"A _tiger?_"

"Seriously?"

"Dear God," Paul growled, his jaw locked and his expression caught somewhere between embarrassed, stunned and angry. His right hand curled into a fist which trembled ever so slightly so I stepped in, well aware that no one else was paying attention to how furious he was becoming.

"If it helps, I told them off for you even if it was before we met." I said, hastily, squeezing his hand again. It was feverishly warm but he seemed to be making a conscious effort to keep it relaxed which I appreciated- he looked strong enough to crush my fingers with one twitch.

It worked though. It distracted him enough to turn to me, one eyebrow raised. "What do you mean?"

"Well…" I felt put on the spot since I was sure the rest of the table were still half listening. But I felt strangely glad about what I was telling Paul about. I felt glad that I'd snapped at those girls…but why? "I was having a _really _bad day and I didn't want to have to listen to some airhead babbling on so I told her-"

"Yeeees?" Paul drawled, fully entertained now.

I went crimson and sunk lower in my chair as I spat out the answer. "I told her I didn't care if it was a drawing of freaking _Hello Kitty, _she could babble away about it in the _corridor._"

I was right- they _were_ still listening. They all howled with laughter, all except Paul, who just beamed at me. "You said that?" he echoed. "Really?"

"Well, they were in the cubicles and didn't _really _know it was me and Erica thought it was so funny so she took the blame for it-" I rambled, trying to dig myself out of the hole my fat mouth had gotten me in to. I didn't exactly _regret _it, at least not entirely. Some part of me was happy I'd done it-

_Because you don't like other girls talking like that about him._

The idea hit me with the subtlety of an oncoming cement truck and I felt my stomach freeze with horror. What the _hell _was wrong with me?

"Sophie, that is _awe_some." Paul interjected, laughing, startling me out of my panic. I'm ashamed to admit, I stared a little at his smile before ripping my hand out of his and launching myself back over in to _FRIENDS AND FRIENDS ONLY _territory with a catapult. My hand was too comfortable in his, his anger made me want to help, his smile made my knees weak, I was _glad _I'd snapped at girls, glad out of _jealousy_: these were not good signs. They were practically signs of the _Apocalypse_ in my book.

"I shouldn't have said it, it was rude." I muttered.

"Well I appreciate the gesture anyway." He grinned although it was slightly dimmed. I knew he'd find it funny: Paul Beckett's record for the impolite and rule-breaking was somewhat legendary.

"I didn't even know you back then." I mumbled, self-consciously.

The grin froze and he suddenly looked ten kinds of sincere as he looked deeply into my eyes, pinning me there with a gaze so intense it was a wonder I didn't burst into flames. But it felt less…trapping this time. Maybe I was just getting used to it. "My mistake." He said, quietly.

_And that's a big K.O. right there, ladies and gentlemen._

_Paul_

I waited until Sophie was seatbelted into the car to jump on the question that had been hounding me all day. Lunch had gone better than I would've thought possible and apart from the dreaded Commercial being brought up, Sophie had handled herself perfectly.

I remembered when the first time the commercial for La Push Repairs aired, I'd been pretty pleased with the amount of attention I got from it. While putting the ad together, Emily had hired a friend she knew from the Makah Reservation who'd been hired up in Seattle to do television commercial producing. Apparently the 'friend' had been pretty interested in capturing everyday work shots around the garage and caught me coming in from patrol, as usual, shirtless because lugging around a full change of clothes is a pain.

At first, I'd been smug because there's no such thing as a flabby werewolf despite the amount of food we all eat. And girls definitely noticed it. I even caught wandering looks from one or two of the female teachers now and then which, according to Jared, did nothing to deflate my oversized ego.

At the time, I'd dismissed it as jealousy of not having all the attention but by then, he'd found Kim and attention was the last thing on his mind. And I have to admit, at the time, I'd been pretty proud because the bragging rights were eternal and widespread.

Now though, I realised that Sophie had seen that advert. She'd seen it and probably noticed the amount of attention I'd soaked up when it came out. I hadn't cared how anyone might see it then but now it felt stupid and lame and…_sleazy. _Way too slimy for a girl like Sophie, who deserved the world on a silver platter and more.

It just reminded me of how different things were between us, how much better and how perfect she was compared to me. I didn't want her seeing it like that, seeing me like that. I wanted to be better than that for her.

_Seriously though, _a small part of my brain remarked, sadly. _She probably didn't even care back then. _

That idea hurt more than I would've thought it did but I shook it off. I had bigger things to talk about.

"Sophie can I…tell you something?" I started off, trying to phrase it in a way that might make her more persuaded to agree with me. _Damn it. Subtlety is _not _one of your strong suits idiot!_

"As long as it's not that you really do have a _Hello Kitty _tattoo, sure." She teased. I smiled, wondering at what such an irritated, snappy Sophie might look like. She was always so quiet and timid and shy. I strangely loved the idea that maybe she wasn't as shy inside that head of hers.

"You're welcome to check if you want…" I threw her a seductive smile as the words poured out, unfiltered.

Sophie's tapping fingers froze for a second before she let out a small, dry chuckle. "I'm sure I would've heard about that by now." She whispered, still looking out the window as a light sheet of rain started to fall. Her voice was sad.

"What do you mean?" I asked, frowning. "You mean the guys?" I didn't think they would tell her something truly embarrassing, not until she knew about everything. But did she know something I didn't?

"No, I mean- I mean, just forget it." She muttered.

"We cliff dive sometimes but honestly, who would've found out except them?" I pressed, confused.

Sophie remained silent, tracing the drops that fell down the window pane with her finger and I realised, a second too late, just what she meant. Girls. Girls I'd gone out with. Girls in short skirts or painted on jeans. Girls would've rumoured about that by now. Shit.

"Soph, they don't…they don't matter-" I started but then her house appeared on the curb and she was already grabbing her bag.

"Thanks for dropping me home Paul. Today's been fun." She said, flashing me a small smile. She made to get out but I leaned over, unthinkingly and pinned the door shut. God, I shouldn't have done that. I was way too close, too close to move back without physically restraining me and too close to move forward without explanation.

_Crap Paul, _the sane part of me screamed. _Move. Now._

The rest of me was foggy, trying to remember the name of the purple flowers Sophie's hair smelled of. Purple flowers and vanilla…Her lips were so close. Closer than I'd ever remembered them being, except maybe the day I'd caught her.

_Just an inch or two._ I thought, distantly. Just an inch or two of distance to close before I could touch them with my own. I wondered what they'd feel like. I was suddenly craving that inexplicable warmth she'd shared with me before. I could feel the last remains of it lingering on my cheek, unforgettable, ravenous for more.

Just a touch, I thought fuzzily. Just one kiss.

"Paul," Sophie whispered, her eyes wide and surprised and blue. I'd never heard my name sound so utterly perfect. _Paul._

Wait. Paul. _Paul. _Paul the friend. Paul the persistent guy with the car. Paul the guy who'd dented her car. Paul the guy who'd sat with her in hospital. Paul the _friend_.

I pulled back, the realisation hitting me. I was not Paul the guy allowed to kiss her. Not Paul the guy who could touch her. Not Paul the guy who could get this close without scaring her away.

I was Paul but I wasn't _that _Paul.

I wasn't supposed to do this. I wasn't supposed to be scaring her away. I reared back, putting a foot of distance between us, one hand still locked on the door handle. I could feel indentation marks in it from where I'd gripped it and I could only hope she didn't notice them. Sophie sat perfectly still, watching my every move with careful blue eyes. Her breaths were ever so slightly off.

"Can you come to the bonfire this weekend? Or did you just say that to make Claire happy?" I asked, hastily. Her face was perfectly frozen. Not a good sign. I needed to bring back the normalcy before she bolted. I couldn't be sure I could give her anymore time or space.

Sophie swallowed, her gaze still unwavering from mine. I could hear the faintest tick of her heart, sped up in panic. "I…I'm going to try. I can get there and back," she added, her voice slightly dry. "I'll meet you down there right?"

"Sure." I tried to force an easy smile but it didn't feel right. She didn't want me to drive her. Today was Tuesday. That was another three days before the bonfire. I could fix things by then, right? "I'll pick you up tomorrow, same place?" I added, desperately.

Sophie nodded, the smallest of smiles on her face. It looked sad but slightly wary. "I…guess that'll be okay." But she didn't sound sure. She nodded and carefully pulled on the door handle, taking great care not to touch my fingers. _Oh god, _I thought, miserably. _What have I done?_

"Seeyou tomorrow Paul." She murmured, hopping out into the rain with her bag. I waited until she was inside before driving off, wondering just how the hell I'd screwed up two weeks worth of progress in under a minute.

I swallowed, convulsively. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Just like I'd been doing all day.

Only now the breaths were shaky for an entirely different reason.

A short time later, I came bounding through Sam's front door, straight into the kitchen. "Hey man, where've you been- Hey what gives?" Jared squawked angrily as I pushed him and Seth out of the room, forcibly. They probably could've put up a better fight but the look on my face must've convinced them not to bother.

"You eat my muffins, I'll tell Sophie all about the time you phased in front of-" Seth called, threateningly before I closed the door and blocked him off.

Emily frowned at the stove, pulling out a batch of said muffins. "Paul, are you okay?" she asked, gently.

I grabbed one of Seth's muffins despite his warning and practically swallowed it whole, collapsing onto the nearest stool. I buried my face in my hands, miserably.

"Emily, I think I just screwed everything up."


	21. Rapid Fire

**(A/N): Just a little memo today. I'm not feeling well and school pressure is getting to me. Enjoy this chapter, cause the next one's going to take a little longer than usual. Thanks for all the support.**

**TBlues.**

Chapter 20. Rapid Fire

_Sophie_

I took in a deep breath and made my way downstairs, dressed in the most non-descript clothes I owned. I was so nervous that my hands trembled violently. I curled them into fists to stop him from seeing, wishing it was easy to hide the nervousness. I had _never _done anything like this before.

Ever since I was fifteen, I had accepted my curfew as nonnegotiable, just another aspect of my punishment. It kept me locked up inside every hour that wasn't a school hour and the only times I felt brave enough to break it on the weekends was when my father wasn't actually here.

But now I felt like Cinderella, working her fingers to the bone to persuade her stepsisters to let her go to the ball. I didn't kid myself- this was no fairytale. There were no talking birds or singing mice. The stepmother hit much harder than you would expect. And happy endings were a figment of an imagination taught long ago not to dream.

But this week…it had been so good. Dad came home, planted himself on the couch or locked himself in his room and I barely had to say more than two words to him. I kept the house tidy so it didn't aggravate him, I kept my head down, my door locked. I rarely came down from my attic except to leave for school or cook dinner and it _worked._

It was like it was back to the old days when I ignored him and he ignored me and we avoided the inevitable. Things started to heal, bit by bit, unhindered by more wounds. The television blared nonstop as always but there were less and less sounds of bottles breaking.

So Saturday evening, at seven o'clock on the dot, I summed up every last shred of courage I had left and went downstairs to make my impossible request, to act out my impossible lie.

It was just my luck that Anderson was with him. I gritted my teeth at the sight of him and tried extra hard not to make eye contact. I could still feel the gaze on me, settling over my entire body like tar poured down my spine. It made me want to shiver but I got the feeling he like to unsettle me so I hid the tremors as best I could.

"Dad?" _Here goes everything…_

"Hm?" he grunted, never taking his eyes off the television.

I took one more breath. "My economics class has an exam tonight and it makes my final grade for this project." I said, slowly. I tried not to think too much about the truth of tonight: _My friend Paul has a bonfire tonight and I've never wanted to go to anything as badly as I want to go there._

"What? S'not a school night," he muttered, finally glancing at me with a suspicious eye.

"Our teacher thinks it's important to prepare us for how university exams are planned- you know, at hectic hours, on different days." I babbled, nonchalantly. My heart thumped, unevenly against my ribs, clattering with fear and panic.

Dad looked me over and seemed satisfied that I wasn't dressed to go out anywhere special. A small part of me was disappointed that Paul would see me in my normal, school clothes but I squashed it to the very bottom of my stomach.

"I can walk there and be back by ten." I added, hastily. "Dinner's already heated up and waiting."

"You should've been walking all year," he growled. I stood frozen, ready to bolt back upstairs at the slightest hint of fury.

"I don't remember hearing anything about night-exams." Anderson suddenly interjected, mildly. His eyes gleamed with that nameless something that chilled my bones and I felt the blood drain from my face. _Oh no. Please don't. _Dad's face had changed from carelessness and seemed stuck between confused and suspicious.

"What d'you mean?" he barked. _No. I'm so close._

Anderson shrugged, glancing back to his beer. "Well that new kid around the shop, Johnny, he goes to La Push High doesn't he?"

"Yeah, he does…that's right, I remember now…" Dad murmured, slowly catching on. He glared at me, the fury starting to carve into his face. _Why? _I thought helplessly. _Why did I even try?_

But suddenly I glanced at Anderson and his expression held a sort of sick amusement as he said: "But then Johnny's never been the sharpest tool in the shed," he cut in, the cold manipulative gleam re-entering his eyes. "I don't reckon he's got enough brain for Economics."

I held my breath, preparing for the blow that never came as Dad frowned, his mind fuzzy from the alcohol as he reclined back in chair. "Right. I guess he wouldn't." he tossed me a disgusted look. "Go on then, get lost."

My brain was still reeling and shocked from the sudden turn around but my feet didn't need to be told twice. I grabbed my bag from the step and made for the door hastily, turning around at the last second to see Anderson still staring at me.

_I know you're not going to school, _his eyes seemed to say. _I know you're lying._

I could feel them on me right up until I shut the door. I gasped for air and my hands shook even more violently than before. _So close. _I'd been so close to ending up curled on the floor in agony, to being in worse shape than ever for trying to sneak around Dad's unwritten rules.

And Anderson had put me there. And then he'd taken me out again.

I was disturbed at the amount of power his opinion had over my dad; if he could convince him I was lying and then that I was telling the truth in the space of a minute, what else could he do? And more importantly, why did he do it?

I shuddered, pulled the hood up from my jacket and tugged it over my head as I hurried on down the street. I still remembered the way to First Beach from days of swimming with Erika although I heard it half way through the walk. I came out somewhere close to the warm glow of the bonfire, which was burning blue from the driftwood.

For a second I wondered if Paul would notice if I just never showed up and then rolled my eyes. _Stupid Sophie, _I chastised myself, stepping closer toward the hoard of laughing, wrestling, joking, talking people with trepidation. _Of course he would notice._

Because Paul's eyes missed nothing. I tried not to focus on that thought longer than I had to because I was counting on the fact that Paul would miss one very big nothing. I could pick him out, stretched out on a big fallen trunk, kicking Seth for trying to steal one of the thousand hot dogs someone had set up on plates on a nearby blanket, waiting to be cooked over the fire.

I let out all the air in my lungs with a big _whoosh! _and, almost as though he could hear and recognise the sound, his neck snapped toward me and a bright smile lit up his face. He looked like he wanted to call out and I didn't know what made him stop himself but I was eternally grateful to it because there was a disturbing amount of miss-nothing eyes present here and I only barely got through lunch everyday with the crowd at school.

I came up beside the log and Paul jumped up, so tall I had to crane my neck to see him. "Hey," I murmured, smiling weakly. "I came."

"Yeah," he breathed back. "You did." He stared long enough to make me fidget- which was longer than usual anyway- and gather other people's attention.

"Let the girl sit down Paul," someone scolded, fondly and he seemed to jump out of skin, immediately gesturing to the log.

"Oh, right, of course," he rambled and I sat down with a small smile. He seemed to realise other people were waiting for introductions. He looked ready to make a _"Sophie, everyone, everyone, Sophie,"_ kind of presentation but the same voice as before coughed, threateningly and he sighed. "Sophie, this is Sam and Emily," he gestured to two dark lit figures behind the fire, one of whom waved, cheerfully. "And the Elders, Sue Clearwater, Old Quil-"

"I resent that," the old man said gruffly.

The Quil I knew nudged him mischievously, a giggling Claire in his lap. "Well they can't exactly call me Young, Sexy Quil, can they?"

The old man smacked the back of his head, rolling his eyes.

"-and Billy Black." The last man sat next to Jacob and I tried not gather his attention since I knew him from the Downings Workshop. I'd only gone in there a few times when Dad called and demanded something from home.

On one occasion, a few years ago, I'd gone in to see him arguing with a man in a wheelchair over a faded red Chevy truck. "_…my son could repair this for half the cost!_" he'd said, calmly.

"_Well then go get him to do it, cripple. It's this price or get lost,_" Dad had roared back, already suffering from a hangover. I remember feeling sorry for the old man who didn't deserve my father's temper. But then he'd spotted me over the shoulder of the man and fear took over. "Y_ou're late,_" he growled.

"_I-I had class,_" I remember stumbling over the words as I handed him over his wallet I'd had to run home to grab and make the quick trip up to Forks on my lunch break. Dad had rolled his eyes at the excuse and waved me off afterwards but that was normal.

What I remember most was the way the old man in the wheelchair had looked at me, wise and calm and terrifyingly penetrating. In that second, I just _knew _that he knew. He seemed to send me an expression that said _I'm sorry he does that to you _which scared the living daylights out of me.

Amongst the flame-lit faces, it was his I was most frightened to meet his so I didn't. I just prayed he didn't remember. "And Leah, of course," I glanced over to Paul, whose tone had changed to stiff and reluctant as he gestured to the last woman, seated beside the Elders. She was beautiful in a harsh kind of way and her expression was filled with bitterness and loathing.

"Everyone, this is Sophie," Paul added on, as if it were the point of the whole introduction. I had varying degrees of greetings but in the end, everyone went back to their own conversations.

I leaned in to Paul's ear, feeling completely out of place. "Why are the Elders here?"

He shrugged. "Cause they're gonna tell some of the legends tonight. No big deal."

I choked on my own spit. "Are you kidding? _Paul, I shouldn't be here._" I hissed.

Paul rolled his eyes. "You worry too much." He plucked a sausage off the end of twisted piece of wire and dumped it inside a hot dog bun. "Here, before _someone_," he growled at Seth, "-eats them all."

Seth snorted but otherwise remained quiet. I picked at the hot dog gingerly. "I'm not really hungry."

Truthfully, I wasn't used to seeing so much food open for me to eat. I usually made enough for Dad and took whatever was left for myself because he noticed when I bought enough for both of us and that usually didn't end well for me.

In response, I heard the woman, Leah, snort and Paul cast her a death glare. I hesitated at the inter-group politics going on before restraining my curiosity and choosing to stay out of it.

When Leah turned away from the scowling, Paul turned back to me, smiling wryly. "Leah's a harpy so we generally ignore her." He informed me. Seth smacked his shoulder so hard, I thought I heard something _crack! _but Paul rolled it once and seemed fine. Which was more than strange.

"So…I wanted to apologise," Paul said after a few minutes. "About the other day," he clarified, hastily when he spotted the confusion on my face.

When the realisation dawned, I ducked my head and took a bite out of my hotdog to save myself from having to answer. My cheeks went a brighter shade of scarlet than ever as I thought back to Tuesday, when Paul had reached over to grab my door and inadvertently given me a heart attack.

_He'd been so close, _I thought, wistfully. He was as close as he'd been the day we met, maybe even closer and all I could smell was sea salt and oaks and my heart was clattering so fast against my chest and those eyes were dragging me in like a black hole and I hadn't been sure if I liked it or hated it but I didn't have time to think because it seemed like he was leaning in and then-

Nothing.

He had pulled back and suddenly the line between _friends _and _more than_ seemed blurred and squished and mutilated in a way that I knew was unstable, unsafe and unwanted. I'd been over the moment so many times in my head, feeling disappointed, confused, glad. I'd gone over it so many times, I wondered if maybe I'd imagined the whole thing.

I knew it was a bad idea to even fathom the idea of liking Paul but once I'd let it loose, it seemed to viciously resent the tiny box I'd locked it up in previously. The feeling had a mind of its own and seemed to want to remind me of that every spare second of the day.

Just like that day at the carnival, it took me by complete surprise, sneaking its way into the forefront of my mind until I caught myself staring out the window in class, wondering if Paul's lips were as warm as the rest of him.

I'd become one of those sickeningly love-struck girls, in a way that I had no right or ability to be. I couldn't get _involved _with someone! I barely made _friends _let alone _boyfriends._ And there was no point in believing or fantasising that Paul felt in any similar way. The impossibility made my heart hurt but my head told me it was the right thing to do.

"I'm sorry you were…uncomfortable," Paul was saying stiffly. He looked rather uncomfortable himself so I didn't bother to correct him on his assumption and just nodded.

"It's okay. You're forgiven." I assured him and his shoulders drooped with relief.

"Really?" he said. I nodded and he exhaled in a big gush, glancing over with gratitude at the mysterious 'Sam and Emily' figures from before. "Emily said that would work." He admitted and I let out a small smile.

"The great lady killer Paul Beckett went for girl advice?" I teased, a little more comfortable now that the _friends _barrier had been reinstalled.

Paul hung his head in mock-shame. I giggled and he looked up so quickly, I thought his neck might snap. "Made you laugh _again _Miller." He teased back.

"You're still counting?" I challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"And if I am?" he tossed back. I smiled, dryly and looked down at my hot dog. "There's green stuff if you don't want the hot dogs," Paul suddenly blurted out. "Emily makes it for Kim since she's vegetarian." The girl beside Jared looked up and spared a slight smile toward me that I returned, hesitantly.

I knew the story of Kim Connweller: she was one of those shy, nice girls who somehow managed to snatch the heart of Jared Donaway by merely breathing. A lot of what the stories about her say are ridiculous: one of them goes that one day, Jared turned around to borrow a pencil and suddenly just couldn't bear to be parted with her-

I paused mid-bite because the story sounded strangely familiar.

_Jared meets Kim one day out of a hundred and then just keeps hanging around her…_I coughed suddenly, trying to shut down the part of my brain that was taking the strange coincidence and inserting me and Paul's names instead. _That's ridiculous, _I told myself.

_But it's true._ My brain whispered. I shut the idea into the _DO NOT TOUCH _file at the back my head and concentrated on Paul who was staring. Again. He opened his mouth to say something else when I rolled my eyes at him but a voice from behind us cut us both off.

"So are you going to introduce us properly or just pretend to ignore me?" said a pleasant voice and Paul sighed, heavily.

"Emily-"

"You promised Paul," she reminded him, cheerfully. I suddenly remembered Courtney Young from _The Portside _Restaurant in Port Angeles: "_Oh, me, Emily, Penny, Sue and some others. We've been digging for information for weeks now!_"

I gulped, loudly and slowly turned around to face the woman. I tried hard not to stare but the realisation of just which Emily this was dawned only when I saw her face.

She was beautiful for sure, composed of the shiniest, darkest hair, gold-dusted skin and warm, teal eyes but the scars…it was difficult not to stare at Emily Young-Uley and not see what could one day end up being me.

They said it was a bear, caught in the midst of salmon season, that attacked her. But where I pictured the claws swiping down her ruined, tortured face, I could only see a broken bottle with jagged edges like glistening teeth.

I exiled the thought, trying to make a smile out of the remains of shock and fear left on my face. Emily smiled back, cheerfully. "I'm Emily," she introduced, sweetly. I felt ashamed for staring at her like she was goldfish, the precise way I hated to be stared at myself.

"Yes, Paul's go-to for love advice," I said wickedly and Paul groaned under his breath.

"Did you have to?" he murmured, softly.

I ignored him. "I'm Sophie."

"It's lovely to meet you finally Sophie," she said, laughing. "Paul's kept you in the dark for quite a while."

A small politely confused smile traded places with strangely genuine one already on my face at the odd sentiment but Paul shot her a dark look. _So it's about their dirty little secret? Interesting…_

Emily kept up a steady stream of chatter after that, asking about school and friends and family. My answers were fairly limited- _School's fine, Erika's nice, my Dad's a mechanic_- but she didn't seem to mind. The crippling fear of people I usually had around strangers didn't rear its ugly head which made me wonder if Paul was slowly turning me normal- well, as normal as I could get.

When the hulking mass of person Emily called her husband called her over, my eyes ran over the pink, raised scars once more before she excused herself and moved back to the other side of the circle. I felt pale, images of my own wounds flitting through my head despite my efforts not to taint the evening.

_The cigarette burns on my back. _"I'm sorry," Paul said quietly, once she'd left.

"Huh?" I echoed, dumbly. _The long thin wrap-around on my right leg._

"Emily's scars…" Paul clarified, his face trouble. _The thick one on my stomach from the fire poker. _"They're shocking if you're not used to them."

I shook my head and grimaced. _The two slices on my elbow from being thrown backwards._

"I'm sorry for staring, I was thinking of something…else." _The pitted skin on my back from landing on broken glass. The indentations from the belt buckle._

Paul grabbed my hand, warm and safe and tight in his. I felt the panic ease slightly in his grip. "It's okay. I should've warned you." He looked like he wanted to say more.

"_Sophie!_" squealed a familiar voice and I had a spare second to turn my head before Claire landed on my lap, squeezing me tightly. She was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with flowers all over it but there were wrinkles in them and dirt had gathered on the hem of the jeans which made me wonder just how much energy one little girl could contain.

"You came! Paulie said you wouldn't and Quilly hit him because he said a bad word," she whispered, covertly. "And told me you _would _come but I wasn't sure and now you're here!" she chirped.

I laughed, softly. "Yes, I am."

"Did you eat Aunt Emmy's hotdogs? Cause they're _really _good or do you eat like Kim? She doesn't like hotdogs, she's a vegetable-tarian." Claire babbled away before cutting herself off, her eyes wide. "Oh no!"

"What? What's wrong? Claire? Are you hurt?" Quil suddenly demanded, snatching her into his arms. I remembered Paul saying Quil was a family friend to the Youngs but I still thought it was a little strange to see him react so strongly.

As it was, Claire wriggled away from him impatiently and pointed to my shirt. I glanced down and saw a bright red ketchup stain on the collar from where Claire had hugged me. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I promise!" Claire sobbed, tears gathering in her eyes.

"It's just a little splotch," I told her, soothingly.

"I'm sorry!" she cried.

I felt slightly awkward but suddenly, a memory of something I hadn't thought about in years popped into my head:

"_SOPHIE!"_

"_What? What's wrong?" I called, frowning as I stumbled in on Mattie, sitting in the middle of Mommy and Daddy's room. "We're not meant to be in here." I whispered, trying to pull him out._

_But there were tears in Mattie's eyes and he held up a long piece of thread that had a few white pearls clinging to the end of it. The rest were lying scattered on the floor and Mattie's face was blotchy from crying. "It broke!" he wailed. "I didn't mean to! It broke!"_

_I knew I should get Mommy or Daddy because the necklace was Grandma's and Mommy loved it very much. But Mattie was crying so hard and I knew he'd get in trouble so I hugged him real hard and picked up all the pearls, stuffing them back into Mommy's jewellery box._

"_Shh! It's okay! I'll fix it!" I whispered as Mattie hiccupped, his blonde hair all messed up and his face all red. I pulled a tissue out of the box beside Mommy's bed and carefully wiped off all the tears. "We'll just put it all back and she won't know." I promised._

_Mattie sniffled but nodded. "Okay Sophie," he agreed and put the thread carefully back into the box._

"_It'll all be okay, Mattie," I promised, pulling him out of the room…_

"Shh! It's okay, I'll fix it," I murmured to Claire, wiping the tears out of her eyes. "It'll all be okay. I'll just go clean it up."

Claire sniffled but nodded. I stood up, all the blood rushed to my legs. My head was sort of fuzzy and still reeling from the memory as I asked Paul if he had anything to wipe it up with. "There's probably something in my car," he replied, humour dancing in his eyes. "I'll come with you-"

"No," I blurted out. I couldn't handle company at the moment. I might just unleash everything. And I couldn't do that, not even to Paul. "No, it's okay, I'll get it. Can I have the keys?"

Paul looked disappointed he couldn't come with me but he handed them over anyway. "I'll be fine Paul, stop fussing." I told him, distantly trying to lighten his mood as I took the keys.

"I do _not _fuss." He retorted.

I merely raised my eyes before walking away. My composition disappeared the second I reached Paul's white mustang and the flashes of scars and wounds and bruises and broken bones that he'd kept away before came flooding back, accompanied with the sick, twisted grief I'd bottled up for eight years.

I leaned my head back against the car and tried to keep my breaths even but it was hard to concentrate on anything but Mattie.

"_Sophie, do you wanna play dinosaurs?" Mattie asked, tugging on my arm. I shook him off and carefully fixed my attention on braiding my new doll, Christina's long brown hair._

"_I'm playing dolls, Mattie." I told him, fixing the end of the braid with a rubber band._

"_Please Sophie, _please?_ I wanna play dinosaurs!" he pleaded, whacking a Long-Neck and a T-Rex together in a battle. He liked the T-Rex best so it won whenever they fought._

"_I'm busy Mattie," I said, as the rubber band popped off and the braid came out. I sighed and set to work fixing it._

"_Please Sophie? Play dinosaurs!"_

"_No!" I yelled at him, braiding Christina's hair once more._

"_But Sophiiiiiiiiiiie…" he whined._

"_Go away Mattie! Go play with Caleb!" the little boy next door was weird but Mattie liked him so that was good enough for me. I finally put the rubber band on and beamed at Christina, fixing up her dress so she was perfect for our tea party._

"_But he can't do the T-Rex voice!" Mattie wailed. "He can't do it good like you!"_

_I paused but shook my head. No. Tea Party today. Dinosaurs tomorrow._

"_I'll let you be the T-Rex?" Mattie begged. I stopped and turned to him, holding out my pinkie finger._

"_Pinkie promise?" I said, sternly._

_Mattie bobbed his head, furiously and hooked his finger with mine. "Yeah! Promise! You'll be the T-Rex forever and ever!"_

Forever and ever. I pressed my palms to my eyes so hard I saw stars. _Not forever and ever. Not ever again. Stop torturing yourself Sophie._ I ordered myself, miserably. _Just stop._

I sucked in a breath to stop the queasiness and opened the car, digging around for something to clean it off with. I dug out an old napkin from a take-out container and a water bottle that had slipped under the seat and washed off the ketchup with little resistance. I sat down in the passenger seat, my legs hanging out the door.

It bothered me, thinking about Mattie after all these years. Why now? I'd stuffed those thoughts away under proverbial lock and key and boulder and the memories shocked every inch of my body cold. As I tried to pinpoint the trigger of these assaults on my memory, I heard something rustle and crack in the bushes surrounding the beach. I peered into the dark but I couldn't see anyone.

"Paul?" I called out, eying the trees in case scaring the living daylights out of me was something he might tease me with. "Paul, is that you?"

"Not quite." Came a harsh voice and a figure stepped out from behind the trees, tall and lithe and unexpected.

**R and R**


	22. Truth Be a Liar

**(A/N): This took shorter than I expected and I figured I'd post it sooner rather than later. I read back over Ch 20 and suddenly realised how cruel I was in giving that cliffhanger so here it is: the intruder revealed!**

Chapter 21. Truth Be A Liar

_"Doubt that the sun doth move,  
doubt truth to be a liar,  
but never doubt I love…"  
-Shakespeare _Hamlet

_Paul_

"Dude, it's a twenty foot walk to the cars," Jacob complained, moodily. "Nothing's going to grab her, chill."

"Shut up," I snapped, absent-mindedly as I continued to peer around in the dark. Even with my super senses, the car park was out of reach and I couldn't see Sophie from the bonfire, but didn't want to risk going after her so soon after she'd forgiven me.

There was a hand on my shoulder that I distantly recognised as Emily's. "She's fine Paul," she soothed. "Honestly, you're worse than Sam."

"I resent that," I muttered, my feet twitching like they wanted to go after her. Suddenly Sophie stumbled out from behind the thin spread of trees obscuring the car park and the relief settled in as soon as she sat down beside me. But even that was momentary.

"Are you okay?" I asked, studying how pale her cheeks were, how distant her eyes seemed in the firelight. The driftwood flames made them bluer than usual.

Sophie snapped her neck around to look at me, like I'd startled her and blinked. "Y-yeah. I'm fine. Honest." She assured me, quietly.

"Are you sure?" Horrible memories of her in the hospital with freezing white skin skittered across my brain and I half wanted to reach out and test the warmth of her skin. But I didn't. As per Emily's instructions, I was trying- stupidly- hard not to touch her excessively since it made her uncomfortable.

I also had to "_smother my instincts that she'd be better off with me by her side every spare second"_ and stop convincing myself that "_everything bad in the world automatically headed for her"_ since neither was completely true and it was really just _"all in my head"._

This was proving much harder than I thought it would.

She nodded, vaguely but her eyes were composed and frozen, drawing back from me once again. I could've screamed in frustration but I kept a lid on it. _She's right next to you Paul, _the imprinting instinct part of me growled. _Don't lose it._

But my hand still trembled and I wished she would take it so I'd have more of an incentive to calm down. But she didn't. Sophie seemed more locked away than ever before and my eyes flitted toward the carpark, wondering how she could've gone from so happy to so cold in a matter of minutes.

Claire cheered up at the sight of the missing red splotch on Sophie's collar and finally resumed her babbling with Quil, who'd been nearly as inconsolable as Claire over the ketchup stain. He perked up and tossed her upside down, much to her delight.

_Maybe this wasn't the best place to come with Sophie, _I thought, eying the intense eye-lock Jared and Kim had engaged in almost ten minutes ago with slight disgust. Everywhere I looked there seemed to be imprints kissing or hugging. The stark differences between them and Sophie and I were too obvious to ignore and the goal of one day being with her, touching her, kissing her, seemed further away than ever.

Sophie, however, didn't seem to register what was going on around her. She stared into the fire for a long time and then slowly peered behind her at the waves of the North Pacific washing lazily up on the shore.

Anyone else wouldn't have noticed anything amiss as she stared at the waterfront. Anyone else would've turned around and let her be until she was ready to talk. Anyone else would've missed the way her jaw clenched and her fingers tightened into fists.

Anyone else wouldn't have taken in the way she now fiddled anxiously with a nearby twig, in a way she only did when I stared at her too long. Anyone else wouldn't have noticed the withdrawal of her face.

Anyone else would never have glimpse the heart-stopping agony that flitted through those cool blue eyes of her before she turned back to the fire and stared unrelenting into the flames once again.

"Sophie," I murmured, my voice slightly shakier than I expected. Pain. Sophie was in pain. Something, someone had put her in _pain. My _Sophie. Quick and hot and white, the anger slid down my spine, trying to coax out the wolf but I ignored it.

"Yes Paul?" Even her voice sounded calm and neutral.

I felt stupid as I wondered how to ask her. _What was that? _seemed too prying. _Is there anything wrong? _felt redundant at this point. _Are you okay? _wasn't really enough to ask about that agony.

Finally, I realised she hadn't even glanced up at me so what did I do? Oh yes, I acted without considering a single fucking shred of logic. Because apparently, that's my MO.

I tilted her chin up gently so I could watch her face. It was calm, perfectly composed, not even a wisp of that torture lingering on her features. But that image wouldn't leave my head and I knew I hadn't imagined it. "Can I do anything to help?" I asked, practically whispering. It felt like she might blow away otherwise.

Sophie watched me for a few minutes, her eyes showing nothing but uninterrupted blue. Finally, she cast her lids down and gently tugged her chin away from my fingers, tugging her sleeves further over her hands. "No." she said, finally. "You can't."

_Like hell I can't, _I thought to myself but before I could say a word, Billy had taken up the head spot among the Elders and the fire seemed to glow brighter and lower, in anticipation for the stories to come.

"The Quileutes have been a small people from the beginning," Billy said, his voice strong and ancient and enough to drag me back into the history of myself, of my pack, of us. "And we are a small people still, but we have never disappeared. This is because there has always been magic in our blood…"

Just the same as every other time I'd ever heard the legends, I could picture everything Billy described so clearly, so brightly, images seared onto the back of my eyelids. A lot of the other guys insisted they had seen it as well…even going as far to say we remembered the face of Taha Aki himself. The Elders believed that as wolves we had a sort of inherited memory. Nothing was really lost, just passed down along through the line.

Before, I'd always felt this impossible want to go back, back before cars and houses and TV. Back when Taha Aki was chief and being a wolf was revered as an honour that no one was afraid to hide.

Even now, I could see Seth and Brady leaning forwards slightly and I could practically smell the need to go back and rejoin our forefathers as it brewed inside their hearts.

But it was different this time. I didn't feel that longing anymore, I couldn't even conjure up an ounce of it. _Because Sophie isn't there, _a small part of my brain told me. _Because she keeps you here._

Gravity. That's how Jacob and Sam described it. I wasn't good at words or feelings or mushy crap but even I realised gravity wasn't a strong enough concept. Sophie pinned me here. Not reluctantly or against my will. She pinned me here and made me realise this was the greatest period of history I could ever be part of because she existed _now. _

Well aware that the awe on my face was probably rivalling Jared's _I heart Kim_ stare, I blinked and tried not to let Sophie catch on to just how much I was starting to love her. It felt deeper now, stronger, brighter, more urgent. _Sophie, what are you doing to me?_

But Sophie hadn't even turned away from the fire. I could tell she was listening- her lips twitched every now and then like they did when she was concentrating- but it was almost as if she was trying to watch the legends unfold amongst the driftwood-blue flames.

She wasn't paying me any attention and I stared unabashedly at her, studying her, really studying her like I always wanted to but could never get away with. Sophie seemed to have an inbuilt ability to sense when someone was even glancing at her and it rare when I could sneak in moments where she switched it off.

I found myself noticing things that intrigued me far more than any other girl would have. Like the ragged edges of her fingernails. Like the delicate bones of her wrists. Like the delectable arch of her neck or the hollow of her throat. Like the slender slant of her cheekbones, the tiny, faint freckles gathered on the bridge of her nose and the lone dot on the side of her jaw.

I just watched and marvelled and everything about her seemed so fragile and delicate. It seemed as though she wasn't made to survive this world. _But that's why she has me, _I brightened considerably. _To keep her safe._

The stories continued on for hours and gradually, Sophie became less and less tense beside me although her eyes never left the flames. I just kept staring, wondering if she felt my eyes tracing over her, whether it made her uncomfortable. But Sophie wasn't that good of an actress.

When Old Quil came to the story of the third wife's sacrifice though, the mask of composure finally broke for a moment and I only caught it, having already been staring.

She looked so guilty, so agonized and distraught that it was all I could do not to pick her up and crush her to me, where I knew she'd be safe, where she'd never have to feel that way again.

"_She sounds like a bright, independent young woman, Paul," _Emily had chided. _"She can handle herself. You can't expect her to give that all up in a heartbeat just because she met you."_

I gritted my teeth and watched with disappointment as Sophie withdrew again, tenser than ever.

"…and she was about to deliver the death blow to Taha Aki…" Old Quil continued, his voice grave. In my head, I winced because that was one of the strongest memories that was passed down through the pack connection.

I could remember the vivid colour of red blood dripping between the third wife's fingers. I could remember the confusion, followed by the agony of the old chieftain as he realised what she had done for him.

I could remember the Cold Woman's dark, hungry gaze and the rage that she dare think herself worthy to drink my imprint's blood. I could remember delivering the last blow to destroy her, fuelled by the urge to save my imprint…

I could remember holding the cold body of the third wife, hands dyed red with her blood, willing her to live with wolf howls and whispers of thought.

"He lay for one day beside the body of the third wife, growling whenever anyone tried to touch her, and then he went into the forest and never returned," Old Quil finished gravely.

Almost every wolf present trembled slightly, not out of rage but as if to shake off the memory. Sophie's hands twitched just a fraction.

The stories were coming to an end and I knew the one thing I'd been trying to keep out of mind for the whole night was lurking at the back of my head, waiting for a second of lost concentration to strike.

"_Do I tell her Emily after the legends? Do I tell her about everything, about me, about us?"_

Emily had been silent and the humour in her eyes that had been present since I sat down dimmed to nonexistence. _"Paul," _she hesitated and then sighed. "_When you tell someone something like that, it has to be the right time. You have to know they'll hear you out long enough to explain, that they're in the right frame of mind to do so. Sophie likes facts, so it's going to be difficult for her to accept. In the end, you have to choose what to do in the moment and accept the fact that maybe…"_

"_Maybe what?"_

Emily had stared at me, uncertainty in her eyes. _"Maybe it might just be too much for her to take. Maybe she'll never really get over it at all."_

I knew it would take convincing and maybe sometime but what Emily said about Sophie never really being comfortable with it had me frozen in total fear.

Too much for her to take. Never get over it at all. Sophie Miller, junior year genius, social hermit, fragile, delicate, careful, composed Sophie might not get over it _ever_. The girl I was rapidly falling head-over-fuckin'-heels for, might _never _be okay with the idea of my morphing into an overgrown mutt every now and then.

I dreaded telling her.

What if she freaked out? What if she sent me away? What if this feeling was just a one-way street? What if the imprint instinct I trusted so badly failed me here? What if she thought I was a freak? What if she never got past it?

We weren't in an actual relationship- she could leave me as a friend and I'd have absolutely no right to say otherwise. I couldn't demand we work things out because there wasn't actually a _we._

God, I wanted there to be a _we. _I wanted their to be a _we, _an _us _and a whole lot of _ours. _But there wasn't. And it made me sick to my stomach to think that all the progress I'd made would come to nothing because we weren't ready to start baring souls or whatever those crappy talk shows babble on about.

I knew there were things Sophie didn't tell me. She had a brother, whom I'd never met and she'd never mentioned while fully coherent. She had a father who was mysteriously absent for days at a time. She hated excessive touching and being stared at for too long. She had convinced herself she was a terrible person for some unspeakable reason.

The secrets that wrapped around Sophie made it so hard to get anywhere with her. But she was worth every single second of frustration because if I could just crack that shell, I knew that _maybe _she could handle cracking mine.

Old Quil startled me out of my thoughts, gradually calling the legends to an end. There was a moment of silence that always followed the stories and then Kim and Jared stood up moments later and announced that it was probably time to head off. Seth muttered something to Brady, who howled with laughter and earned both of them a smack across the back of the head from Jared.

Emily packed up the food while Sam intercepted the Elders and exchanged words in hushed tones. Everyone seemed to be shaking off the legend's affect and I watched as everyone started to pack up although none of them made any lasting commitment to walking home. In fact, their eyes kept flitting to Sophie and I and I could practically hear the unspoken question: _Is he gonna tell her? Should we stay? Or give them privacy?_

But Sophie hadn't moved yet. Her legs were still bent and tucked against her chest and she still stared at the bonfire with a blank look. Her gaze didn't falter for a second as everyone packed up and I suddenly knew this wasn't the right way to tell her.

Not when she was so far away from me, stashed in her own head. Not now. Not tonight.

So I shook my head at Sam, just a tiny imperceptible movement and he sent everyone on their way, slowly meandering off the practically deserted beach.

No, not tonight.

"Soph?" I reached out, wondering if she might crumble away if I touched her but it seemed to jolt her out of her self-imposed trance.

"It's over?" she murmured, eyes still cold, face still calm. It was slowly driving me nuts, not being able to see the emotions so clearly written in those eyes of hers.

"Yeah," I replied, going to help her up but she had already beaten me to it and crossed her arms in front of her chest, like she was trying to shy away from me. _Normalcy Paul, normalcy. _"So did you like the legends?" I asked, trying for casual and coming out somewhere near desperate.

Sophie blinked and let out a small smile. "Yeah, they were great. I don't think I've ever heard them told so vividly. It was amazing." She glanced at her watch as we walked up to the carpark, leaving the safe glow of the bonfire. _Don't screw this up Paul. _"I have to be home by ten." She remarked, almost surprised by the time. "So I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

I eyed her incredulously. "Sophie, you seriously think I'm letting you walk home in the dark like this?"

"I walked here didn't I?"

The response confused me. Usually, Sophie told me things like how _unnecessary _it was or how _close _she lived and how _little of a problem _it was to get home. This was…barbed.

"It's cold and dark and wet, Soph." I stated, firmly. _That is not acceptable. _"Come on, I'll give you a lift."

"No, I'm fine, I'll walk." She replied, dismissively.

"Sophie, would you please stop arguing?" I begged, exasperated. She was a little stubborn, sure but not usually this obstinate. "Just get in the car."

"I'm _fine _Paul." She stressed, casting a slight glare at me. I could only stand there, bewildered. _Where the hell did Soph go? What was wrong? _"I'm a big girl, I tie my own shoes and everything." She added, darkly.

I'd never heard her sound so bitter before and my arm caught her elbow before I told it to. "What's going on? You totally spaced out during the bonfire, what's wrong?" I called her on her trance and it was clear it had somehow become a softspot over the past few hours. _How am I meant to help her when I don't know what the problem is?_

"_Nothing's _wrong." she insisted, irritated. "Just go home Paul, I don't need help."

"Sophie, what's wrong?" I persisted, my temper getting the better of me. Why couldn't she see I was just trying to do what was best for her? What the hell happened between yesterday and tonight to make her so…angry?

"Paul, for the love of god, just go home alright?" she finally shouted and it left me totally floored. Sophie _shouting? _I'd entered some sort of weird alternate universe because that just _does not happen _in real life. "I don't want the lift! I'm not as weak as you seem to think I am!"

"Why?" I demanded, suspicions growing faster every second. "Why don't you want me to take you home? Why don't you want me near your house?"

And there was the heart of it.

Sophie hated me going within spitting distance of her house on a regular basis and the few times I'd been allowed closer than the curb had either ended disastrously or confused the crap out of me. I mean, _Jeez, _imprinting is _not _meant to be this hard.

The little remaining colour in her cheeks drained from her face. "What are you talking about?" she argued weakly. "You've been to my house before!" but she wouldn't meet my gaze as she said it.

"That doesn't count and you know it!" I yelled back, so tired of her fighting me on helping her. "What the hell is so fucking bad that you don't want me to know? Huh? What are you hiding?"

It was the wrong thing to say and I knew that as soon as the words left my mouth. Sophie snapped her neck upwards to look at me, heatedly. "_Me? _What am _I _hiding? What about _you?_ You dent my car with your _hands, _you catch things out of _mid-air, _adults look to you and your friends for information and news like you know the whole goddamn universe and your temperature is so high, you should be _dead!_" she snapped, her voice getting louder and louder as she went. "You want _me _to be honest? _You first._"

And with that, she turned on her heel and left me standing in the car park, alone with a pair of trembling fists and a heart paralysed with fear.

The emotion got too much. The second she left my line of sight, the rage and confusion and guilt and anxiety crashed down through me like Sophie had just pulled the plug on my restraint. It washed right down my spine and I barely made it into the forest before my clothes ripped to pieces.

_Whoa, I thought you were taking Sophie home? _questioned a sleepy Embry.

I cracked my jaws in response and let my thoughts run rampant over my control. _What is she hiding? Why does she insist on keeping me in the dark? Doesn't she understand I can help? That I need to help? She doesn't get it! I'm all alone in a one sided relationship that won't ever go anywhere because she wraps herself up in all those goddamn secrets!_

_Paul, man, you gotta calm down, _Embry said, reasonably. I slashed at a nearby tree in frustration. _Seriously. She's a complicated girl but she's your imprint. There's gotta be a reason you're with her._

_God, she's driving me __**nuts **__and she doesn't even know it! _I roared.

_Well you did kinda provoke her- wait, if you're at the beach, who's watching her? _Embry suddenly asked, confused. I took off running without a second thought, cursing my own stupidity.

_What happened? _I was at a loss as to how Sophie went from quiet and funny and shy to this raging inferno of anger in such a short time. _What did I miss?_

And suddenly, it all became clear.

"_Paul?" my beautiful ketchup-besmirched angel called out into the trees. "Paul, is that you?"_

"_Not quite." I stepped forward, anger swelling up inside me at the sight of her. Who did she think she was? How inconsiderate could one person be before society had the right to beat them up?_

_Her eyes narrowed and then focused on me and I smirked internally. I moved silently toward her, my best furious look on. "We didn't get a chance to _talk _before," I snapped, scowling. "But I figured we probably needed to have this conversation sooner rather than later."_

"_Wh-what are you talking about?" she stumbled over the words, her body going very still and tense and her eyes scanned my movements carefully. Ugh. Another stammering, pretty little imprint for the pack to fawn over. Gag me._

"_You don't know this but Emily is my cousin," I growled. Half of this was out of some long-buried loyalty to Emily and the other half was partially just because I didn't like this girl and Paul was a dick. The latter part of me was slightly bigger. "And if I catch you staring at her like she's a freak again, we're gonna have a problem."_

"_I wasn't staring," she answered, quietly. I hated the polite lie as soon as it fell out and I took another step toward her._

"_The hell you weren't," I sneered. "You were gaping at her like she was a total outcast when she's stronger than you'll ever be." She braced herself against the car. "She's been through hell for what happened to her and what the hell have you ever done in your picket-fence life that was ever as difficult as what she's done, huh?"_

"_I wasn't staring."_

"_Oh spare me the excuses," I snapped. God, she was more annoying in person. Way too jumpy and skittish. "They make you look even _weaker_ than I already know you are."_

"_I wasn't staring. I'm not weak."_

_I sighed, frustrated. "I'm sure you were just thinking real hard in her general direction right? So go on, Saint Sophie, tell me."_

"_What?" Jeez, was she deaf or something?_

"_Tell me what it was you were thinking so hard over." I mocked her, mercilessly. She wouldn't meet my gaze and my opinion of her dropped to the negatives._

"_I-I was just thinking, that's i-it."_

"_Go on then. What were you thinking of?" _

"_Nothing, it was- nothing." Her voice shook._

"_Homework right?" I continued on._

"_No. I told you- I'm sorry- I just- I-"_

"_Or maybe those 'like, totally cute shoes in Port Angeles'?" I said in a falsetto. She may have Paul wrapped around her little finger but I wasn't fooled for a second._

"_No! I was thinking of-"_

"_Of? Of what?"_

"_I wasn't thinking about her…scars-"_

"_Well go on then, spit it out," I jeered, cruelly._

"_I was thinking about mine." She suddenly blurted out. I frowned, confused. Hers? Her what? Her sca- _

_She suddenly raised her head and her eyes met mine for the first time. Before had been glances but this was proper and head on and every ounce of spite in me drained when I saw the look in her eyes._

_They were haunted and dark and I wondered if Paul knew what he'd gotten into with this girl who was staring at me with such a piercing, bleak gaze. I wondered if maybe she was faking it but another second convinced me:_

_This wasn't something you could fake._

_Suddenly her gaze widened, like she suddenly realised she'd said something very bad and she rushed past me, dabbing at the ketchup stain as she went._

_I stood still for a whole moment and a chill ran through me. I shook it off. Don't feel sorry. That was my number one rule. I was seeing things. Obviously…_

The last time I'd wanted to kill someone so badly was when Sophie had inadvertently showed me the fingermarks on her neck that time.

_Oh Leah, _Embry said in a voice awed at her cruelty and spite.

The harpy's presence was something I hadn't immediately registered until she'd accidently shown me her thoughts and now, I couldn't handle the idea that she was so far away. I needed to _maim _her for what she had done to Sophie, for what she had said and made her feel. I just saw red seeping through my vision.

_I-I…It's not my fault! _She defended but it was weak and I could still feel how cold she was after looking at Sophie and seeing all that restrained pain I'd been witnessing all night.

_You __**bitch**_. I hissed, furiously. My legs felt fuelled with rage and I barely kept from racing after her as I progressed further toward Sophie's home.

_Look, she just- Paul I- I'm sorry okay! _Leah yelled, humiliated with having to apologise to me.

_**I'm not the one you verbally destroyed! **_I roared back.

_Guys, just…damn, Leah…Paul just calm down for a second okay? You'll scare Sophie if she sees you like this. _Embry appealed to me. It was that thought and that thought only that kept me from submitting to the boiling rage in my chest.

_It started just wanting to get back at you for the 'harpy' thing and for being such a prick lately and then- then she _looked _at me and- _she shuddered mentally. _Jeez Paul I don't know what happened but it was bad._

_It was bad. _I couldn't even argue with her on that one. That look. God, what happened?

_I'm sorry Paul. _Leah repeated, this time far less shrill. _I shouldn't have said what I said. _

_Damn right you shouldn't have. _I growled but my worry over Sophie was eating up my fury like acid.

_I'll apologise the first chance I get. _She swore. _I didn't know what I was poking at until-_

"_I wasn't thinking about her…scars-"_

"_Well go on then, spit it out," I jeered, cruelly._

"_I was thinking about mine." She suddenly blurted out._

The replay was too much to bear.

"… _I was thinking about mine."_

What did that mean? God, how could this have happened to my Sophie? How could I have let this happen?

Weak, that was what Leah had called her.

"…_I'm not as weak as you seem to think I am…"_

Staring into the fire, composed, trying not to let anyone see her slip. How distant she'd been when she came back from the carpark. It slid into place in horrible sickening way.

_I'm sorry. _Leah echoed once more.

I growled. _I'll forgive you if _she _does._ I came out of the forests right across from her house, just as she walked up, somewhat subdued and I watched as she tugged her backpack out from behind the bushes and slung it over her shoulders before walking up to the house.

The door opened before she could touch the doorknob and out stepped a great hulking figure of tattoos and beer-breath I had never seen or had the pleasure of beating up before. Sophie's reaction was immediate; her back straightened and she eyed him like a stray dog that had come up with its tail wagging- there was no clue if it would suddenly bite you or not.

Who was this jerk? I studied Sophie's face as it ranged from uncomfortable to wary. The man smiled, his teeth yellow and black from cigarettes. "Well, well, well. Little Sophie's back from her midnight rendezvous."

"It's before ten." She answered, stiffly.

He winked at her and eyed her in a way that made me want to rip his head off. _How dare her? _"How was the economics exam?" he mocked her.

Sophie gritted teeth and tried to move past him but he blocked her way. "I would've thought you'd be a little more polite Sophie," he said, lightly. "After all, I did you a favour didn't I?"

She said nothing in response but I could smell her fear with my animal senses. From the sleazy grin on his face, I reckoned he could too. "Did you have a nice time tonight?" he asked, dragging his fingertips down the side of her cheek. She cringed away from him and I wanted to race over and mutilate his whole hand for touching her.

_Man, no, phase back first._ Embry cautioned but I knew I couldn't calm myself down enough to phase back to human. I'd never felt more bound and helpless by my wolf side.

"Did you meet up with your little boyfriend?" he was fishing, I could tell, for information. Sophie obviously could too and she still said nothing, glaring at his arm. "No? It's always such a shame when a pretty girl doesn't get appreciated…_properly_."

"Move your arm please." Sophie whispered, tensely.

The man eyed her for a moment and shrugged himself off the porch and down the steps. "Sweet dreams Sophie. I know mine will be."

She shuddered for just a moment and then ripped the door open and charged inside, fear pouring off her. The man simply got in his car and drove away toward Forks. But it didn't matter because now I knew why Sophie was the way she was.

And already, I was making plans to wipe that filthy smile off his face.

**Ooh, claws are coming out. Review please, I'm so close to 300!**


	23. Girl Talk

**(A/N): I'm sorry it's late. I could give a thousand excuses but the main one is that I'm sick and Year Twelve is officially killing me. I would like to take the chance to tell everyone that I AM NOT ABANDONING THIS STORY and that I would NOT LIKE PEOPLE TO PM ME ANYMORE ABOUT 'ADOPTING' IT. Some of you have been more polite than I would've thought possible but this is not a puppy and it belongs solely to me. Thankyou.**

**Enjoy  
T. Blues**

Chapter 22. Girl Talk

_There are few things more  
elusive to the average male mind  
than the concept of girl talk.  
- Anon_

_Sophie_

Paul showed up on my doorstep on Sunday morning and then again on Monday morning and it was just freaking well my dad had gone off on one of his benders with Anderson because otherwise, I would've wrung his neck with my scrawny bruised up arms.

As it was, I ignored him.

The bonfire had started out so well but it had just spiralled out of control, first by the re-appearance of Mattie in my mind and then Leah Clearwater's cold words in the parking lot. I flushed, embarrassed and angry whenever I repeated them inside my head.

I knew parts of them were true. I wasn't as vapid as she made me out to be but there were parts that were true. I was weak, I was selfish and scarred and I was endlessly embarrassed that I'd been caught staring at Emily's face so blatantly.

I realised that this was how Paul saw me; as some silly, weak, pathetic little girl who needed protecting and saving all the time.

But I _wasn't. _I had managed fine all these years, gone through heart ache, grief and day to day pain and I still kept quiet about it. Paul was wiggling a strange part of me to the surface, a part that wanted to scream and yell and just _tell _him about everything, about dad, about home, about mom, about Mattie-

And that's where I stopped myself. This was _crazy _talk. What the hell was I _thinking? _Telling him? Was I _nuts?_ I hadn't even told Erika, my _best friend_ of seven years, and I was considering- hell, _wanting_- to tell a boy I hadn't even known for six months?

A boy who kept a secret just like I did, a boy that made me want to kiss him, a boy that introduced me to his friends and tried to help me at every turn-

_Oh and he probably thinks you're a scared weak pathetic little girl, _my pessimistic side chimed in, nastily. _Don't forget that._

And really, what had I done to prove him wrong?

Well, I had let him drive me to school, carry my groceries, rescue me from a concussion and sneakily buy me lunch once or twice.

_Oh yeah Sophie,_ I told myself sarcastically, tossing my Calculus book away from me. _You showed him. Way to be independent. Woot._

It was hard to ignore Paul during school; he seemed to have an internal radar for where I was. I would think it was creepy if I didn't theorize that this had more to do with his mysterious, shared secret then Paul's previous status as my personal stalker.

But more than that, it was hard to ignore _him_. There were times when I found myself missing his smile or pushiness. Times when I found myself missing my only other friend and the way he made me laugh…

God, I so wanted to laugh. Now more than ever.

Dad had been getting antsy in the short times I saw him; he seemed far more paranoid than before and worse, it seemed like Anderson was feeding it along. It worried me, the amount of power he held over Dad. I wondered how he would use it against me.

I wasn't stupid. I could plainly see the mind games Anderson was playing, trying to mess with my head and show me how helpless I was. The only thing keeping these games from elevating was my non-involvement.

The second I showed interest or talked back, Anderson jumped on it, trying to egg me into joining his sick psychopath games. It was little things: how he would touch my arm or neck as he strutted past, how he'd make a point of bringing attention to me and then dismissing it, displaying how mindless my father was under his control.

I was determined not to fuel the fire. I stayed the hell away from him and in return, he took my father out for drinking binges and God knows what else in Seattle or Port Angeles.

Tiredly, I glanced outside, unsurprised to see Paul's mustang suddenly pass by my house and brake quickly just past the driveway. I _almost _smiled at that because he finally seemed to have decided to follow my advice about coming up the driveway, even if my Dad wasn't actually home.

Sighing, I turned away from the window, biting my lip. It wasn't that I was particularly mad at Paul; there was undirected anger sure, but mostly, I was embarrassed more than anything. I wasn't weak. I _wasn't._

I tapped my fingers on my book, a hardcopy version of _Romeo and Juliet _for English. How did I ask him to just forget the whole thing? Or did I talk about it and explain myself? The thought made me cringe because it was a gateway into a multitude of issues I'd rather keep to myself.

I didn't want to face Paul, having yelled at him, knowing he thought I was a pathetic little weirdo that needed saving every day and twice on the weekend. But I had to, because to tell the truth, it was strangely unnerving, not talking to Paul. I don't know how to explain it; I suppose I'd just become too accustomed to his presence. It was probably better to put a little more distance between us. Really.

Yes, that's what I am telling myself.

No, I don't quite believe it either.

But what else is there to do?

I glanced out the window again but there seemed to be no movement from the car. I frowned, my eyes automatically searching out the tall, familiar figure but there seemed to be nothing but-

_Oh no. _Attention all of Sophie's cells: _RUN! RUN! RUN!_

I flipped of my bed frantically, ducking from the window. _No, no, no. I can't deal with this, not now…_I glanced around, realising it was ridiculous to run because there was nowhere to run _to._

_Okay then. _Attention all of Sophie's cells: _NEW PLAN! HIDE! HIDE! HIDE!_

"Miller- _Sophie_- are you in there?" came a terribly familiar voice as I skidded down the staircase and raced around to the kitchen, the one room with no windows. _Don't let her see you…_my brain whispered, paranoid as I eyed the front door, fearfully.

What the _hell _was Leah Clearwater doing on my doorstep?

"I _know _you're in there," she added, bitingly amused.

And _how the hell did she know I was here?_

My brain was trying to connect the dots at a breakneck pace but I honestly couldn't help it. Leah Clearwater scares the living daylights out of me. I'm a huge passive, non-confrontational _weak _pathetic creature and she's tall and beautiful and fierce and absolutely terrifying.

You figure it out.

All I could think was either a) Paul was making her apologise, hence his car or b) she was here to tear my soul to shreds…again.

"Open up or I'll come in anyway." She threatened.

I bristled slightly at that, mainly because if she knocked the door off its hinges- which, if she's part of the same deathly secret Paul is, might just be possible- my dad would take it out of my skin. But the other option was to open up and let her in to a place _very _few people have ever gone. No, I was much better off just waiting til she left-

It suddenly clicked in my head right then that I was hiding behind my kitchen counter on the whim of Leah Clearwater. I stood up, embarrassed for myself and shuffled around so she couldn't see me through the windows on either side of the front door.

I eyed myself with disgust. What the hell is wrong with me? I'm being totally irrational about a girl who seems to think the world owes her hundred fold. _She probably told Paul, _I thought, miserably. _She's probably here to tell me by proxy that he thinks I'm a freak and he never wants to talk to me again._

I can honestly say that I've never felt so exposed as when Leah called me out in that car park. I still can't believe I blurted that out to her and some of my fear stems from the idea that maybe, just maybe she told Paul.

And that maybe, _just _maybe, Paul is going to dig deeper than he should and I'm going to have cut off this wonderful friendship with this wonderful boy who is wonderfully driving me nuts.

And that maybe, just _maybe…_that makes me a little mad.

Who is this girl? What did I do to her? Why did she have to complicate everything? The questions kept piling up behind my sealed lips. I wasn't angry at Paul. The 'undirected anger' was taking a new shape, like an arrow, slung right toward the woman on my doorstep.

I was angry at her for making me say those things. I was angry at her for making me yell at Paul- even though he can't help what he thinks based on the facts I've given him- and mostly, I was angry at her for separating me from him because I needed him so muc-

_Whoa_.  
Pause.  
Rewind.  
Play.

_**What?**_

Before I could try to figure what _that _meant, there was a scratching noise and then the front door's hinges creaked open. I span around and my jaw dropped open to see Leah walking- no, not walking, _strutting_- across the hardwood floors of the foyer, looking careless.

"How did you get in?" I wheezed, panic surging up in my chest as I dodged her lithe form and checked the lock for breaks.

I could almost feel the eyeroll. "You leave the spare key on top of the eave? _Really? _That's the most commonly used spot in America apart from under the doormat." She drawled. I sighed in relief which passed immediately when I realised Leah Clearwater was _in my house._

"Leave." I demanded, my voice slightly shaky.

"Can't." she shot back, wandering on through to the kitchen. I followed, indignantly.

"This is _my_ house so get out." My voice was stronger that time.

"I told you, can't." Leah sat herself down on one of my kitchen stools, the same one Paul had sat down on when he picked up my groceries. She looked like something out of an art photography exhibition: _Study of Woman on stool._

The afternoon light played across her face, lengthening her eyelashes, making her hair darker and her skin glow. It was painful to see the perfect unblemished skin exposed by her tank top and jean shorts. I tugged at my own sweater uncomfortably.

"What did you mean?" she asked, suddenly, her eyes sharply trained on me. I hadn't noticed she'd been studying me while I studied her.

"Pardon?" I mumbled, not meeting her gaze.

"What did you mean? That night? When you said-" she prodded until I glared at her, frustrated.

"Just leave." I ordered although it came out sounding a little like pleading. I hated that.

"I can't." she sighed, gustily. "Not until I apologise."

No, not even my brain could make sense of that. "Huh?"

Leah's smooth legs tossed themselves onto the stool beside her and she leant back on her own seat precariously. I eyed her, expecting her to fall off but she didn't even falter. "I came over here to apologise." She said the word carefully, like she wasn't quite sure if the pronunciation was correct. "And I'm not leaving until you forgive me."

The inevitable question would've been _why _but I was too preoccupied with getting her the heck out of my house to care. "Fine, I forgive you, now go." I ushered her out, exasperated.

Her brow furrowed. "No, no, no." she shook her head. "You have to actually _mean _it too."

"Sure, I do. I forgive you, totally and absolutely. The whole thing slipped my mind entirely, I swear." I rambled, absent-mindedly. "So leave. Thanks. Bye."

The furrow grew deeper. "I haven't even apologised yet." She pointed out and for the first time, there seemed to be a hint of a smile playing at the corner of her mouth that wasn't entirely bitter.

"Well…" I sighed, frustrated. "It's the thought that counts right?"

"Why do you want me to leave so bad?" she asked, curiously.

My eyes bugged out in disbelief. "Are you kidding? You tore me to shreds last time we were alone." I pointed out, my franticness making me bold. "I was hoping to lessen the chance of a similar event."

"How old are you?" Leah demanded, throwing me off track.

"Uh…seventeen?" it came out like a question.

"I don't know how Paul keeps up with you." She went on looking partly amused, partly puzzled as she leaned further back until the stool's back leg was at a forty five degree angle with the floor. I kept waiting for her to go toppling but she seemed perfectly at ease.

"Can you just _go?_" New phobias were starting to invade my mind. _Dad might be home tonight. If he's home, he'll be with Anderson. If Anderson's here, he'll use Dad as a weapon. Against me, against Leah, against Paul. They have to go. They have to go _now.

"I can't-" she reiterated.

"I know, I know, until you apologise, but I don't really care so if you could leave now?" I suggested, irritation getting the better of me. She raised her eyebrow.

"For a seventeen year old girl who hid behind the kitchen counter at the sight of me, you don't seem too afraid now." She said, smoothly.

I blanched. "How did you-?"

"Call it a talent for seeking out my prey." Leah waved her hand, dismissively. "But seriously, I can't leave here until I apologise. Paul's been driving us all nuts, freaking out about how you don't want to be near him and it's all his fault which then becomes all my fault which then means I end up the baddie…like always." She finished, bitterly.

I pinched the skin above my nose. "Okay fine, let's make you a goodie again," I said, quickly. "Apologise to me."

Leah frowned again. "I don't think you understand how apologies work."

"Do you?" I challenged because obviously, I'm insane. You do not _challenge _Leah Clearwater. Erika once told me she could turn an entire school against you within a single maths class.

But she seemed to be actually considering the question. "Not really. Usually I get apologised to." She mused, leaning even further back. _God, don't break those chairs._

"Okay then, I'm sorry Leah." I rushed out, hearing phantom car tires crawling up the driveway. "Now you can go."

"I said _usually._" She clarified, smirking.

"So what?" I demanded, exasperation leaking through my tone. She needed to leave. Now. "Just go."

"No." she shook her head and finally snapped the stool back to an upright position. I breathed a sigh of relief. "No, I need to apologise."

"But I don't _care_." I stressed, urgently.

"I get the feeling you don't like to forgive people." Leah snorted.

I paused at that.

Forgiveness was a tricky thing in my house. I needed forgiveness for a lot of things, especially from my Dad. But I didn't really forgive easily. Leah, Anderson, Erika. I tended to hold grudges if they crossed certain lines. It gave me boundaries as to how to treat them, not that I'd ever treat someone like Erika badly but if she mentioned things like my parents, I tended to draw away a little more. But I wasn't about to give Anderson a second chance to be a real _swell _guy after messing with Dad and, through him, me so much.

But Leah? What did I do now?

It wasn't a punishment system. Far from it, it was a defence system to keep my reactions in check and keep myself safe. If I didn't forgive Leah then I'd have a reason to keep my distance and save myself from being further humiliated.

_But she hangs around Paul…_a little voice chimed in. _It'd make things easier on him and his friends…_

But Paul wasn't a sure thing, right? So it was more logical to just ignore her and send her on her way…

_Paul is certain. We'll always have Paul._ The voice told me, stronger this time. It disturbed me that just like my 'needing' Paul, I didn't understand where these thoughts were coming from.

Unsettled, I studied Leah. It felt like a test. Did I think Paul was a long term thing? Or did I keep myself safe no matter what?

"I forgive you Leah." I mumbled. "I shouldn't have been staring and the other stuff might've been a little harsh but," I forced a small smile. "I'll get over it."

The golden skinned beauty watched me with a sharp eye. "I'm sorry then." Leah replied, stiffly. "I shouldn't have said what I said." She kept studying me and I knew that she was looking for what I'd said about my scars and what I meant.

I kept my face perfectly blank, not even the faintest flicker of life. "Thankyou." I added to the silence, not knowing what else to say. We were a pair of statues, white and russet, totally frozen in place as we stared at one another.

After a few moments, I tapped my toe slightly. "Can you go now?"

And then the most amazing thing happened: Leah laughed.

Not an actual 'ha-ha' uproarious belly laugh. It was quick and low but it wasn't sarcastic or angry or bitter.

I didn't know what to make of it until she rubbed her eyes, smiling slightly. "You're persistent, I'll give you that." Leah complimented, standing up. She looked like even more of a supermodel when she smiled.

"Just an avid avoider of awkwardness." I replied, lending her a tiny, polite smile back. I still felt angry at her but it was soothed. It was lighter now if not a little confusing.

"So you can go tell Paul now that he's forgiven right? Because it's pathetic to see an almost fully grown man wander around like his puppy died a violent mutilated death." She rolled her eyes.

I bit my lip, unsure. I didn't know what was going on with me at the moment. My feelings seemed to be influencing a lot of my thoughts more than they should at the moment. "Yeah, maybe." I murmured, not committing to anything.

Leah straightened and moved toward the door, which made my heart lift joyously until she turned back. She glanced at me one last time and nodded. "I suppose it's good to know at least one of you have part of a spine." She muttered. "I'm so sick of them all thinking girls are these weak little princesses."

_I'm not weak._ I growled, accidentally verbalising it out loud.

"No," Leah replied. "You're not a total loss."

Which is about as good as it gets from Leah Clearwater I guess.

There was a sudden pounding at the door and then Paul threw it open, chest heaving, clad only in denim jean shorts. My eyes raked over all the exposed muscles and then glued themselves to the floor, shakily thinking _friends, friends, friends _over and over again. It didn't work.

"Sophie," he urged, wildly. "Don't listen to her. She's a violent, jealous, psychotic bit-"

"You say the sweetest things," Leah drawled.

_-friends, friends, friends, friends-_

"Shut up," Paul snapped viciously. "Soph, honestly, ignore anything she says-"

"Paul?" I whispered, steadily not looking at him.

"Yes?" I could hear the hopefulness in his tone.

"Why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

_-friends, friends, friends, friends-_

There was a small pause and then Leah laughed again. "She's sort of okay Paul."

"Why are you even _here?_" he growled.

"We were just chatting; you pig, you're _such _a misogynist." She scorned, vibrantly. "She's perfectly _fine._"

_-friends, friends, friends, friends-_

"What were you talking about?" he snapped back. I didn't particularly like his tone about the whole thing but I couldn't bring myself to glance back up. I couldn't even _see _the damn floor.

All I could envision was a very shirtless Paul with a lovely smooth, russet-toned expanse of bare chest, broad shoulders cut into sharply defined pectorals followed by rippled abdominal muscles packed tightly across his stomach …

_-FRIENDS, FRIENDS, FRIENDS, FRIENDS-_

"Girl talk." Leah replied, cuttingly innocent. "Bye _Soph._" she added, the bitterness directed at both Paul and I now. I could barely hear her footsteps as she left.

There was a pause but I couldn't look up to see if Paul was going to say something. "Sophie?" he murmured.

"Mm-hm?" I mumbled, with an upward inflection that was much higher than I intended. I couldn't get the picture of Paul out of my brain. It was eating through my neurons, sending my blush to new and brighter heights.

"Can you look at me?" he sounded closer; I could smell the tell-tale scent of sea salt as his breath got closer.

I shook my head, resolutely, feeling totally frozen and embarrassed and _ridiculously _tempted to look again.

A low chuckle. "Please?" His feet came in to view.

I shook my head again. "Mm-Mm." I hummed in the negative.

"Soph?" a scorching hot finger carefully pressed against my chin and I'm ashamed to say I trembled a little. What was wrong with me? _Friends, friends, friends. _He slowly forced my eyes to meet his, although I kept it strictly on his face. Unfortunately, this wasn't much better.

"Are you okay?" he asked, slowly.

I could nod, shakily. My hands were itching to do something, to stroke, to explore, to feel, to just _touch_ him. _This is crazy. _I thought, foggily. _I'm nuts, totally nuts._

"Are you sure? I'm sorry you had to talk to Leah, she stole my car and drove over here because I've been stopping her and I was on patr-I mean, at work and she snuck around me somehow, I'm so sorry, god, I didn't think-" he rambled. He seemed to get more and more frantic as he went on and my fingers acted on their own, I swear.

I covered his mouth with my hand and tried to still the shakes so he wouldn't know how absolutely _mad_ I'd gone. His lips were warm and I could feel every exhale. The sensation of his breath on my fingers was indescribable. "She came over to apologise." I said, quietly. "It's fine." I added, in case.

I waited for a reply but when he raised his eyebrows, I immediately realised I still had my hand over his mouth and I recoiled so fast, I thought I heard my wrist snap.

"Are you sure?" Paul demanded. His brow furrowed and I had to try _really_ hard not to smooth it out. "Cause Leah's a total-"

"She's not so bad." I cut in. "I- I forgave her."

_Just like I forgave you._ I realised. _Just like I always forgive you. _Paul was the one person I would always absolve, without even realising it. How had that happened?

"You're much nicer than I am." He growled, glaring at the door behind him where Leah had just been.

"She said she was wrong," I offered, mildly.

Paul turned back and suddenly his face seemed agonised. "Sophie, you know I don't think you're anything less or something stupid like that right?" he urged. "Leah's always going on about how the pa- us guys treat girls like they're…weak but it's bullshit, you know? I mean, you- you're not really big- but- no, shit- I mean, I like protecting- argh, this isn't coming out right…" he moaned, clawing at his eyes.

I smiled slightly but there was sadness in it. "I know what you're saying…I think." He laughed a little. "But Paul, I'm not the finest china in the cabinet. I don't want people to handle me like I'm stupid or something."

"I never did that!" Paul insisted. "God, Leah's infected your brain hasn't she?"

I felt a little offended. "Paul, I'm not an idiot. I like to think my thoughts are mine because I came up with them, not because someone else put them there."

He looked a little humbled but continued on. "I didn't think- you didn't say anything like- I just-" he sighed, frustrated by his own mouth.

"I can handle myself," I said, firmly. "I don't want you or your friends to think I'll crumble if you poke me too hard. I managed this far, right?"

He threw me a dark look like he was remembering the incident in the woods but otherwise deflated. "I never wanted you to think that I saw you as helpless. You're so _perfect_ Sophie. I just don't want you to get hurt. I like…helping you."

"Yeah but we're friends Paul," I muttered, not sure what to make of his comment. Perfection? I think not. "You don't have to take responsibility for me."

"Yeah," Paul echoed, blankly. "Okay." He paused, as if finally realising that I wasn't in as much immediate danger as he'd thought and stepped back. It felt like a relief and a burden. Like I wasn't confused enough. "So, I guess I should go."

I didn't particularly want him to leave but it was getting late. "I guess so." I shot him a tiny smile that he reciprocated as he turned and exited. The door closed but it felt less like an ending and more painful.

I can honestly say, I'd never felt like this before. It wasn't all that great to be honest. It was so confusing and my thoughts got fuzzy in the crossfire between heart and brain.

But I'd chosen Paul to be a sure thing. When I forgave Leah, I'd decided to trust that he'd be around for a while. That in itself scared me but coupled with me _needing _Paul and all this bizarre electricity running through my veins, urging me to touch him and it painted a very clear picture, of which I wasn't sure what to do with.

Because I think that maybe, in a little part of my brain that I used to keep locked up with reason and had been vehemently wrestling with since that day in the car, that perhaps I liked Paul more than I thought I ever could.

And that maybe, just perhaps, I wanted him to like me too.

And that maybe, just perhaps, I didn't _want_ to fight it.

I threw open the door. "Paul?"

He span around, having been about to get in the driver's side of his stolen car and his face was tense as I shuffled on my doorstep. "See you tomorrow morning right?" I finally called out.

The answering grin was blinding.

**They're so dang cute. Sorry, that came out fluffier than I was aiming but I decided it was probably time for the ever present 'shirtless-ness' problem to come out. Thankyou for reading! Your reviews are the breath of this story, all I do is supply the skin and bones.**


	24. Aye, Aye Captain

**A/N: So…I graduated High School!  
Luckily for all of you, this means that between now and when University starts, I have absolutely nothing but writing to do.**

**Though the wait is almost obscene, stick around folks. Things are about to get bumpy.**

23. Aye, Aye Captain

_Paul_

Jeremy Anderson was thirty nine years old, new at the Dowlings Mechanics Store in Forks, lived at 29 Jenkins Av. and was a general asshole.

I gathered all this from a few trips through his house while he was at work and while Sam would normally have a problem with me breaking and entering, this was imprint business and he knew better than to try and order me not to do it anyway. Jacob had nothing on me in the 'rule bending' arena.

I knew how to jimmy locks from all my…err, less-than-model-citizen days hanging out at Port Angeles and the jerk-off didn't have a house alarm so it was pretty much fair game when I got to it. I paid little attention to putting crap back where it belongs, mainly because _Jeremy _was a fucking idiot to think he could touch my Sophie like that and get away with it.

Also, because he was a pig and his place was a sty of bottles, newspapers, socks, clothes and other scraps which just ended up adding to the smell of old gym socks that filtered through the whole house.

I found a box in the cupboard that had been posted to him by what looked like his dead mother. There were photo frames, books, a weird looking clock and other pieces that looked like they could happily live in an antique store for the rest of their out dated lives.

They'd included a list of all the stuff sent to him in the will and I was more than a little disturbed to find that the only thing missing was an antique pistol left from his father.

I found it in the bedside stand and stripped it of all its bullets. Yeah, because I'm really going to leave the maniac after my imprint with a loaded _gun_.

There were a few pictures lying around the place, looking like they'd been taken by a polaroid camera of bunches of guys wearing the same nondescript shirt with their names stitched into the pocket, most of the time covered in grease and most of the time in some bar or another.

I picked out Anderson in practically all of them and another guy with blonde hair and _Jackson _stitched into his shirt. I didn't know who he was but he was definitely shitfaced in every shot. There were a few other men who seemed to hang around Anderson in the photos but he seemed to be the most frequent.

I went in and out of his place three times over one week after I dropped Sophie home and tried to find some kind of evidence to prove he was a class-A bastard and was the one hurting Soph because Sam wouldn't take action unless he knew. He didn't want to risk blowing our secret or have me killing an innocent guy. Not that he'd let me kill him even if he were guilty.

Once or twice I ran in wolf form up to the back of Dowlings and tried to pick out who this guy was. And suckily enough, he seemed to be the biggest ass in the whole lot. But weirdly, the other mechanics and workers, all except probably Mr Dowling, were always hanging around him, mucking around.

The comparison between them and us down at the La Push garage made me feel sick to the stomach but it was there. Anderson seemed to be a pretty charismatic guy to everyone but there was one in particular that just creeped me out.

It was the Jackson dude from the photos and he seemed to be a mean old bastard to everyone but Anderson, who just egged him on more. I heard him telling the guy that Dowlings wasn't appreciating his work enough, that he should go and mess it up so he'd have more time to show off skills and the dude literally got up, walked over to one of the cars and busted up the engine so bad _Jacob _probably couldn't have resuscitated the damn thing.

And when Dowlings came down and caught him, Anderson told him to stand down and he just did, the previous rage just gone.

The man was bad news and even though it was enough to sic the pack on him with the two new threats in the area last week, the information was enough to convince me that Sophie needed to get out and stay out of the house more.

"Come on, it's just dinner." I pleaded, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. "All you're going to do is homework." I pointed out when she opened her mouth to argue.

Unfortunately, the only place I had that was safe from the Pack and from Anderson was my house. Which is terrifying enough without adding my nosy, embarrassing-childhood-story-filled mother and then the obnoxious demonic sprite sister. But it was better than letting her get hurt again.

Sophie threw me a less-than-impressed look. "I have a curfew Paul. Which means no dinners. Beside, who's going to cook at my place?" she demanded. I'd quickly learned that if you want to beat Sophie in an argument, you have to be prepared to play dirty. She's just too damn quick and smart to win any other way.

I sighed and got in the car, concealing a smirk when Sophie hopped in after me, smiling victoriously. I waited until we got onto the road that split off onto two streets: hers and mine. Then I slowed the car down dramatically and attacked. "It's just, Zoe was really excited to see you, you know?" I said, shrugging.

"Your sister?" Sophie clarified, politely.

"Yep. She hangs a lot with Collin-"

"Daniels?"

I gritted my teeth at the sound of his name. Sam told me to get over it but I guess I was still a little bitter over his whole _imprinting on my fucking little four-year-old sister _thing. Old habits die hard, right?

"That's the one."

"But I thought he was a junior?" she asked, frowning, curiously.

"He is. He babysits her sometimes for extra cash. Kid's stingy. Practically robs us blind for it." _Yeah, he babysits and in return, takes my sister's entire future. _"Anyway," I shook off the underlying sense of loathing. "He hangs out a lot with Zo and since you met him at the bonfire, he's been blabbing his mouth off."

"Why me?" she cut in, looking slightly panicky.

"Because you're you Soph." I told her, quietly, unable to keep that reverence out of my tone when I said her name. But she seemed to like that even less so I added on quickly. "I'm pretty sure Collin's just stunned that he knows someone who does AP Mathematics and understands Calculus as more than a pillow."

"Why would Zoe care about that?" Sophie asked, sounding sceptical. We were almost at the split off now. _Think fast Paul!_

"Zoe's really advanced for a four year old." I blurted out. "It's fucking annoying but she's obnoxiously smart so she probably knows Calculus is a hard maths class and wants to know how to pronounce it so she can lord it over me that she's the brighter one."

"Do I sense some sibling rivalry here Paul?" Sophie asked, amusement curling in her tone.

I snorted. "Hell no. I'm perfectly happy being the idiot one."

Sophie flicked my arm half-heartedly. She'd been doing that a lot more but it never failed to give my stomach a kick right up into my throat. "You are not an idiot Paul Beckett." She insisted, fiercely.

"Tell that to my high school teachers." I mumbled, crawling toward the STOP sign. I freely admit I was a little shit when I was younger. This was mainly due to my dumbass of a father and his ability to ruin people but I was still a brat.

I liked to pick fights, the bloodier the better, I broke into cars despite my inability to drive a car and basically broke a tonne of laws like the other three million teenage truants in the world, aiming to be original.

Well, I was totally original. How many teenage truants can claim they're _werewolves_?

I used to hang out at Port Angeles every spare minute, smoking, tagging, making out with girls. So things like chores and grades were pretty far down on the priority list. My old friends here the last kind of people I'd ever want Sophie to hang out with.

I kept it up for three years where pissing off my dad came first, the police were my main problem and all I got was an inefficient list of teachers and relatives to try to sway me back to the light.

And then I phased at sixteen and suddenly, patrol came first, vampires were my main problem and Sam came down hard on my ass when I didn't show up.

Grades, however, still aren't a huge priority though, which I don't think is ever going to change. Although I'd probably feel like less of an idiot next to Sophie _AP Classes_ Miller.

"You're not." She insisted, poking my arm.

"Hey, don't distract the driver." I teased, holding her hand back, gently.

"Say it." Sophie struggled for a moment before going limp.

"Say what?"

"Say that you're not an idiot. You're not and I refuse to let you tell yourself that." She explained, firmly. She sneakily poked me again as we got further and further to the end of the road, by now, barely even moving.

"You're bossy," I complained, secretly enjoying this side of Sophie. Something had cracked since the bonfire- she was so much…brighter now. She laughed more. She smiled more. She was still painfully shy but she was getting there. It reminded me of our day out at the Port circus. It had been almost a week and I was finally starting to see what a beautiful, freakin' amazing girl my imprint really was.

"Say it."

"Why should I?"

"Say it Beckett." She pressed.

"Or what Miller?" I teased back. She paused for a moment and out of the corner of my eye, I could see her biting her lip. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry until she answered back.

"Or I won't go to dinner at your house."

I stopped the car entirely in shock. "What?"

Sophie seemed to be holding a debate in her head and when she glanced at me, she seemed resolute. "That _is_ what this whole, driving-slower-than-a-sloth-on-tranquilisers is about right? And guilting me with Zoe? Getting me to go to dinner at your place." She explained, quietly.

"Well…" I drawled, sheepishly. "Kind of." Then her words hit me. "Wait, so you'll come?"

"Well, I guess one night off studying won't kill me." Sophie mumbled.

"Excuses," I brushed off, trying to bring back the laughing Sophie from before. "You just want the leverage."

She flushed a depressingly alluring shade of pink. I was _so _whipped. "You caught me," she sighed.

_Yes I will. _I thought immediately.

So, _so _whipped.

"I figure my dad can take care of himself for a night," she rambled.

"Great," there was probably a huge shit-eating grin across my face as I switched on the indicator proudly and turned toward my street.

"Wait!"

I braked immediately. "What? What's wrong? Are you okay?" I checked her over for any blood or wounds and then stared at her face to see if one pupil was bigger than the other. All I found was her staring back at me like I was insane.

"Paul, if I'm going to your house, you have to say it." She said, slowly.

I coughed, recoiled reluctantly and put the car back into gear. "Right, I knew that." I scoffed.

She rolled her eyes and stared at me, clearly waiting.

I sighed, heavily and rolled my eyes back. "I am not an idiot." I recited. Sophie smiled brightly and it somehow made the all thing worth it as I drove toward my place.

One thing was abundantly clear; I _had to be _an idiot to think I could fool Sophie Miller into anything.

-''-''-''-

"Ma?" I called, walking through the door. I held it open for Sophie, remembering Emily's impromptu advice and she stared at me, curious for a moment before her eyes lit up with understanding and she walked in after me. I smirked on the outside but on the inside, I was wondering if she'd ever had someone open a door for her.

_Maybe I should be listening to Em more often, _I thought, reluctantly. "Ma? Zo? Are you guys home?" the question as just for show. I could hear Mom rattling around in her room and the blaring theme music from the TV was like a sledge hammer against my skull even from this distance.

Sophie stood, barely on the threshold of the house, looking out of place and confused. She tucked her hands away like she was cold but I caught a faint tremor in them when she shifted from right to left, looking around the house. I felt alarmingly conscious of the fact that Zoe had been running rampant through it all day and I hadn't done anything to clean up. It was a stark contrast to her house, which was perfectly kept, everything in its place.

I kicked off my sneakers to give me something to do as the music from the TV grew louder. "Hold on a sec," I grumbled to Sophie as I started to hear an undercurrent of voices beneath the theme music of _Pokémon_.

"Christ Daniels can't you hang out at your own house?" I demanded, storming into the living room and grappling for the remote. The werewolf didn't even glance twice at me.

"Paul don't be mean to Collie!" Zoe reprimanded, all dressed up in aluminium foil and a glass fishbowl we used to keep goldfish in on her head.

"What happened to you squirt?" I frowned, knocking on the fishbowl. She recoiled away and straightened with a scowl.

"I'm an _astronaut _Paul," she said in a 'duh' tone. "Collie's my lieutenant!"

"Can't you play Barbies with her or some shit like that?" I snapped at Collin who snorted. I noticed he was also covered in foil and Zoe had obviously conned him into pinning two of her silvery hairclips onto his shirt as makeshift medallions.

"Like Quil does with Claire? Hell no, I'm curbing her interests into the cool stuff." He told me, gesturing to the _Pokemon _episode with a lazy wave. "I don't want her playing with those blonde bimbo dolls. My English teacher said they mess up girls who play with 'em or something."

Zoe nodded furiously, the glass bowl sliding precariously around her face. "I don't wanna play Barbies!" she announced. "I wanna be an astronaut."

"You can be anything you like Zo." Collin assured her, smiling down at her like she just said she knew the cure to cancer.

_That's _my _nickname, _a part of me mumbled pettily. I pinched my brow, picked up the remote and switched off Pokemon, just as Ash was releasing Pikachu. "_Paul!_" Zoe whined.

As I did, Zoe's squeal was drowned out by Collin's much deeper growl. "Paul, turn it back on." He snapped, his eyes darting between Zoe's frown and the remote in my hand.

"Collin," I mimicked. "Get out of my house."

"_Don't push me Beckett._" Collin snarled. I cast him a deadly look that clearly read _you-better-calm-the-fuck-down-or-else-I-won't-let-you-in-a-hundred-miles-of-my-sister _to which he sighed and got up from the couch he and Zoe were sitting on and switched the TV back on manually, turning down the volume.

"Happy?" he grunted, flopping back onto the couch. He made the other side poof up from his weight and Zoe jumped upwards slightly. She giggled brightly, completely having forgotten me and wriggled her way off the couch.

"I wanna go to Mars!" she demanded.

"Well then we need a spaceship don't we Captain Zo?" Collin pointed out, his eyes still on me.

Zoe's eyes grew huge. "We do! It's gotta be big! Big, big, big!" she shrieked, racing out of the living room.

As soon as she left, Collin growled at me. "Listen Paul, I know you don't like it but I'm here to stay, got it? Which means every time you upset Zoe, you upset me."

I sneered at him. "Who the hell do you think you are, warning me about my own family? She's _my _sister-"

"And she's _my _imprint." He argued.

"Unfortunately," I muttered.

"I'm just saying to cut it out." He started to rant on more but my ears twitched and I could hear Sophie's soft voice addressing someone in the other room…someone with a small, irritating voice…

_Aw, crap. _"I'll deal with you later, Daniels." I assured him, somewhat threateningly, determined not to let Zoe scare Sophie away.

-''-''-''-

_Sophie_

I felt like my hands would tremble if I let them so I clenched them into fists and tucked them under my arms, looking around while I waited for Paul to invite me in further. I didn't feel comfortable here in a stranger's house, with all of Paul's things around me.

It felt like I was watching an anthropological exhibit on the _Normalus familius_ species, a rarity in the perimeters of my own experience_. _There was a closet right beside me where Paul had tossed his shoes onto an overflowing pile (some of which were ripped and torn up oddly enough) and around the corner was a dining room, fit for four places but only set for three.

There was a kitchen around the corner to my right, the counter overflowing with paper work. The fridge was covered in crayon drawing, most of which were of a little girl, another woman and a man, all holding hands. The two female figures were smiling but the man's mouth was just a flat line, a scowl so I picked Paul out immediately.

There was a picture hung up on the wall beside me, two of which were family portraits and the rest just random snapshots- kid's football teams, a school picture. I smiled when I saw one of Paul at twelve, his arm slung around a woman I presumed to be his mother. He was gangly and awkward looking but his smile was the same.

Unable to stifle my curiosity, I hovered around the kitchen counter, studying the little figures that were set up toward one end; a seashell, a glass dolphin, a pair of old glasses and a small carved wolf. My brow crumpled as I took in the wolf, which was carved out of grey wood and bore a striking resemblance to the one I'd seen outside my bedroom window.

_Coincidence, _I told myself but something in my stomach was unsure. I couldn't explain it but I knew there was just…something else. "You're ridiculous." I sighed to myself, running my fingers lightly across the glass dolphin.

"I'm a Captain!" a small voice protested loudly from under my feet and I jumped, so startled I nearly knocked over the dolphin. I frowned, looking across the counter for the owner of the voice. "I'm Captain of a spaceship!"

Slowly, I bent over the counter and spotted the culprit, a little girl of about four or five, crouched down, poking through the cabinets under the counter on the other side. She looked up with me with the biggest eyes I'd ever seen, her hair long and wispy and…pinned under a fish bowl.

_Huh?_

"It's the best spaceship out there you know," she continued, rummaging around. "It's big and silver and there are all these little lights on it to tell me how to make it fly!"

"Oh yeah?" I murmured, noting the aluminium foil wrapped around her arms and legs. "Does it have a name?" I asked, playing along.

She looked at me solemnly with dark eyes sprinkled with green which just solidified my assumption that this was Zoe Beckett.

"Not yet." She told me, grabbing a roll of alfoil from the cupboard. "She hasn't had her maiden voyage!"

"Oh?" I asked, admiring the way she was obviously parroting someone else at such a young age.

"I broke the last one." Zoe admitted, shrugging. As though just noticing me, her eyes narrowed, speculatively. While most speculation made me nervous, the criticism of a four year old made me nearly break out into a cold sweat. "Are you Sophie?"

"Yes I am," I replied, coming around the counter. "And you must be Zoe?"

"Yep." She replied, proudly. "Paul talks about you in his sleep." She informed me, casually. My eyes nearly dropped out of my skull and if I'd been drinking I would've choked.

"Wh-what?"

"In his sleep. He says Sophie a lot. It wakes me up." Zoe shrugged, tapping the roll of foil against her leg.

"He uh- he talks about you too." I said, unsure of how to reply to that. My brain was still sort of…stuck. _Paul dreams about me? He talks about me? He says my name in his sleep? _For some reason, I blushed madly at the thought.

"Really?" Zoe's eyes lit up.

"Yes, he said you were very clever." I told her, smiling slightly. She bounced up and down, the fish bowl wobbling.

"What else? What else?" she shrieked, excitedly.

"He said she was an irritating little gremlin that can't keep still." Paul's voice interrupted me. "I thought you were making a UFO."

Zoe's nose wrinkled. "A spaceship Paul, not a UFO. Collie wouldn't fit if it was a circle."

Paul muttered something under his breath about "_already thinks he's fat_" and turned to me, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry about her," he apologised, as though Zoe wasn't there, which made her pout. "She enjoys being the centre of attention."

"Do not!" Paul pushed a hand down on the top of the fish bowl, playfully pinning Zoe. "_Hey!"_

"Anyway," Paul interrupted her loudly. "Collin was just about to take Zoe outside to finish their UFO-"

"I was?" Collin appeared in the doorway, suspiciously while Zoe mumbled angrily about it being a spaceship, not a UFO.

"You were." Paul confirmed, casting a sharp glare at the younger boy. Though from the size of him (which was deceptive since the last time I saw him was sitting down at Paul's table for lunch), I would never have guessed he was a freshman.

"I was." Collin said, firmly although he cast a glance down at Zoe first who nodded enthusiastically. "I was."

"-You wanna see my room?" Paul finished, bluntly.

"Er- Sure." I said, waving goodbye to Zoe as she dragged Collin from the room. "Your sister's adorable." I told him, smiling.

"Only when she wants something," he sighed, dramatically. "It's a curse. People seem to think she's cute or something."

"She got all the good genes huh?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You're mean, Miller." Paul replied, leading me upstairs. The stairs' wall was filled with framed photos and I paused at a few, giggling at a young Paul growing up.

"Is this you in the Spiderman PJs?" I asked, pointing to what was clearly a six or seven year old version of the boy beside me.

"Alright, now I'll have to kill you." Paul said, sighing. "I had hoped I'd get to keep you a lot longer but I guess not."

"Quiet you," I hushed him, though my cheeks went pink at the idea of him 'keeping me'. Truth be told, I wanted to keep him too. "It's cute."

"Whatever you say." He rolled his eyes and led me into the nearest bedroom.


	25. The Threads That Bind Us

**A/N: I don't really have an explanation for how long it's been, I just hope you like what I do post. *bites lip* Just a short one for now, while I get back into the hang of it.**

Chapter 24. The Threads That Bind Us

_**Penny  
**__Diminutive of Penelope  
From the Greek"πηνη" (pene)__  
Pronounced "Pe-NEE"  
Meaning: "Threads, weft"_

_Paul_

She took in everything like it was art in a museum. I'd never found my bedroom that interesting but when I thought about sneaking a peek at Sophie's room, I realised how much I might figure out from looking at it. This was where I spent most of my time, or used to, at least. Now it was split between patrol, Emily's house, school and Sophie.

This was like an archaeological dig of my life. There were posters, photos, medals, magazines, clothes, random bits of junk, I even thought I might have a bottle of vodka somewhere in the back of my closet from the good ol' days.

Sophie wandered slowly about the room, studying every piece of junk and scrap as though it was the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen.

In turn, I studied her because she _was _the most fascinating thing I'd ever seen.

The way her hands ran along the frames without touching any of it. The way she brushed her hair back from her face only for it to swing back a second later. How she leaned down to study the delicate carvings of the head of my bed- they'd been made by Billy Black, back when he did some carpentering and so it was engraved with wolves and bears.

Her face was open for the first time in ages and every little emotion crossed her face. Wonder when she looked at the little figurines Mom had me make for good luck on the window sill. Surprise when she found the collection of track and sprinting medals from way back when. Amusement when she studied the notches in the doorway that marked my height growing up. I bet she was wondering why there was suddenly a good foot and a half gap between lines but I hoped she wouldn't make me lie to her again. Finally, concern when she looked at a photo of me with my old friends.

"This is you?" she asked, brushing dust from the frame.

"Sort of," I responded, evasively as I collapsed on the bed. It groaned under the pressure.

"Sort of?" Sophie echoed, raising her eyebrows. "Just like how you're sort of running a temperature?"

"No," I forced a chuckle as she sat down beside me. She didn't know it but her scent was pouring off her, dousing my whole room. Everything she touched would smell like her for weeks. How the hell was I going to _stand _it? "It used to be me. I straightened out, around a year or so ago."

"When you joined Sam's…group?" she guessed. I nodded, taking the photo off her.

"That's Ryan Aspens and Mac Kings from our school," I pointed out. "The others are from Port Angeles High."

"They seem…interesting?" Sophie said, sounding like a question.

I winced. "Soph, they're a bunch of deadhead lowlifes."

"You hung out with them for a reason."

"They weren't good reasons."

"They're your friends."

"Were. Were my friends." I got nervous when I saw how closely she was eyeing the frame. "Sophie, I'm asking you now, don't go near any of them?"

She watched me, her gaze like a needle. I always hated needles. "What were you doing with them then?" she asked, abruptly. "I'm trying to picture it. It used to make sense, you know," she let out a strained chuckle. "You used to make sense. But seeing you with Zoe and your room and just being around you…I can't help but wonder why you did it."

She was talking about my less than stellar reputation that had been years in the making. I sighed, noisily, wondering how much I should tell her. I tried not to look at her directly while I talked. "It's a long, dull story Soph."

She laughed once as she leaned back on her hands on the bed. "I'm sort of an expert on those."

"Sort of?" I echoed her, trying to throw her off track. "Like how you're sort of hiding something?"

Sophie looked uncomfortable for the first time since we entered my room and I backtracked, hastily. _Fuck Paul, screw things up why don't you? _

"I was around thirteen when I started hanging out with those guys." I admitted, reluctantly. "I did it to make my parents mad."

"Why?" Sophie's nose wrinkled.

"Well," I drawled, hesitantly. "To make my Dad mad really. He's sort of a dick."

"There goes that 'sort of' again…" Sophie hummed. "Honestly though, why did you want him angry?"

"He did some bad stuff." I finally settled on, firmly. "To my mom and our family. He left about two years ago."

Sophie looked down as her hand slowly crossed over to mine on the bedspread. I savoured the contact like a drowning man savours oxygen. Her grip felt hesitant though. Loose. "I'm- I'm sorry I asked, Paul. No one deserves to have their parents let them down like that."

She spoke like she knew and it made me curious. Her mom was gone, I knew that much and her Dad worked a lot. It occurred to me that maybe he knew the Anderson creep; why else would he have been at her house that night?

"Soph-" I started but suddenly there was a banging noise downstairs and my Ma's voice rang out.

"Paul? Paul I need help, come down!"

I winced and Sophie noticed.

"What's wrong?" she asked, amused.

"Nothing, nothing," I told her, hastily as I tried to stealthily shut the door.

"Who's was that?" she asked, eyebrows raised delicately.

"No one."

"And what are you doing with the door?" she snickered.

"Nothing." I answered, defeated.

"Paul, I need help with the groceries, come _down!_"

"It's just my mom." I said, slumped. Crap.

"Really?" Sophie tried to play it off as something uninteresting but her eyes lit up with curiosity. And then dimmed quickly. "You don't want me to meet her?"

"No!" I almost yelled because fuck, of course I wanted them to meet. Preferably away from the house with duct tape over my mother's mouth so she can't unleash the load of embarrassing stories that she's been compiling for the past eighteen years.

"Then why don't you go talk to her?" Sophie suggested, edging toward the door. I felt like whining. _Stay here…_ "She sounded pretty tired."

"She works at the diner in La Push." I replied as I stood, reluctantly.

"_Paul!_"

Sophie giggled as she exited my bedroom and I flinched from the sound and I wondered if that was a good thing. My reputation was going to shit; I'm an absolute sap around Sophie and now my five foot four mother scares me?

"Worst werewolf _ever._" I complained as I followed after my imprint.

_Sophie_

Paul's mother wasn't tall or imposing. She wasn't overtly muscled or even as lithe as her son and apart from general colouring, their features weren't obviously similar; I figured that Paul must get all of his superficial looks from his father who was 'sort of' a bad guy to him and his family.

When Paul said that, I wanted to crack: _Bad guy? I know bad guys. I know lots of bad guys._

But I didn't because once again, my loose tongue scared the crap outta me. I mentally put a lid on it right as Paul started to talk again but I was worried. My restraint where Paul was concerned wasn't particularly strong or reliable.

When I came into the kitchen, sensing Paul behind me, I was pleasantly surprised to find a short but steady looking woman with long dark hair and silky russet skin, her face beautiful despite the obvious years.

"Paul, when I ask you to come down, I mean _now-_ oh hello there." She said, her bright eyes resting on me. "I didn't know Paul had friends over."

She emphasized 'friends' as though she was in on a joke with Paul and when I turned around, I thought, just for a second, I saw embarrassment flit through his expression before I turned back into an annoyed scowl.

Was he embarrassed of me? The thought leapt away from me before I could control it. All this time, I'd been trying to keep Paul a secret because of my Dad and the attention and whatever but maybe Paul was trying to do the same thing? But for what reasons?

Suddenly insecure, it surprised me when the woman strode directly toward me and hugged me tightly, smacking Paul in the shoulder while she did. I froze up, unable to help the automatic response but she was polite enough not to say anything. "Since my son has the manners of a barbarian, I'll introduce us," she said, cheerfully. "I'm Penny and you must be Sophie-"

"I told you he talks in his sleep," Zoe said casually as she slid onto the stool by the counter, Collin close behind. I could hear Paul choke behind me.

"You told her _what?_" he snapped

"-it's lovely to meet you," she continued, as the two siblings bickered. Penny handed me and Collin grocery bags filled with food.

"You two will do nicely as replacements for my inconsiderate children." She told us, winking and I allowed myself to smile back at her.

"Thanks Mrs B," Collin said as he pulled out Pop Tarts from his bag. He was about ready to rip them open when Penny stopped him.

"Collin, I'd thank you to remember that yours is not the only stomach in this house." Penny added, casually and Collin looked thoroughly chastised.

"Sorry Mrs B." he mumbled, putting the box away.

Penny looked triumphant as I set about sticking vegetables in the bottom of the refrigerator. "You just have to show them who's boss, sweetie." She told me, wisely as though instilling an important life lesson.

"Ma, tell Zoe to stay away from my room!" Paul eventually snapped, grouchily. Zoe stuck her tongue out at him.

"It's not my fault he was so loud!" she chirped, indignantly and I felt like my face was on fire. Paul dreamed of me? _Loudly?_

I might've been socially handicapped but even that sounded inappropriate to my ears. Paul obviously thought so too since he groaned and turned to Zoe with a trembling finger.

"Look squirt, you either stay out of my room or I'm telling Collin about what happened last summer at that sleepover, understand?" he threatened and Zoe's face screwed up with fear and anger.

"Paul! You suck!" she whined and turned to her mother for support. "M_ooom_!"

"Zoe, stay out of your brother's room and Paul, stop threatening your sister." Penny disarmed them both neatly as she pulled out various foodstuffs from the fridge and pantry. "Now leave each other alone until dinner. Sophie dear are you staying?"

"Er…"

"Of course she is, Ma." Paul said, his face triumphant. "She promised. Right Soph?"

"Right," I sighed, internally pleased that he'd remembered and was forcing me on his mother rather than leaving me to do it alone.

"That sounds wonderful." Penny answered, busily. "Now Paul-"

Suddenly there was a long howl from outside and everyone turned toward it. I frowned because it almost sounded like a wolf and I felt an irrational pang of fear for my wolf, the grey one I'd seen outside my house all those weeks ago.

I began to turn to Paul to ask if we should call someone because it sounded so close but he and Collin were already exchanging serious looking glances. "Ma, I'll be back for dinner." He finally told his mother.

"What's going on?" Zoe asked, innocently, looking a little scared for her brother and babysitter.

"My thoughts exactly." I mumbled as Paul ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.

"I'll be back for dinner." He repeated, looking miserable and apologetic. "Me and Collin-"

"Collin and I." Zoe corrected as she hugged her babysitter goodbye.

"-are going to go see what's going on, okay?" Paul studied my face (which was pretty stunned by this turn of events…I mean, you hear a wolf's howl you stay _inside _right?) and then brushed his lips across my cheek, so quickly I thought I might have imagined it.

I couldn't have though; not even my mind could have come up with the burning sensation that rushed along my cheek where he'd touched it.

"Bye!" Zoe called as both of them left and it was at that point, I realised that Paul Beckett was leaving me alone with his mother and sister, both of whom were a little frightening.

_Joy._


End file.
